Not Just the Ticket — #28, Fugazi headlining Rock for Choice, January 24, 1992

Then-current album: Steady Diet of Nothing

Opening acts: L7, Pearl Jam, Lunachicks plus Torture Chorus as MCs

Back of ticket ad: Once again, Domino’s, the ever-so-logical choice for a Rock for Choice attendee.

–

And back again to the blue color scheme, though its days were numbered. At least, in this iteration.

Your eyes are not deceiving you, BTW. That is Pearl Jam there, wedged into the bill. And the thing was, this wasn’t even the weirdest benefit show I’d attend this year.

But it was still…well, both weird and not weird. In a way it was a show of summaries, not least because it was me returning to the scene of an aural crime, or at least a case of misunderstanding on my part when I failed to realize it was Fugazi playing a full set on stage rather than being some anonymous but fantastic opening band. By this point I’d picked up everything they’d released so I wasn’t exactly going to be surprised anymore, and that might have had an impact on my thoughts on the show in the end. Still that was one part of things that show, and that year.

1992 was the first time I could vote in a presidential election, though I’d already voted in the 1990 midterm elections. It was still way early days yet but I was already figuring that I really, really wanted the GOP out of the White House, and though I’m not a member of and have never registered with any political party I was already sure that the last thing I wanted to see was a continuation of George H. W. Bush’s presidency. Hindsight is 20/20 in that his son turned out to be a damn sight worse, but regardless, a fair amount of my belief that year revolved around Supreme Court concerns, not unduly heightened by the whole Clarence Thomas hoohah the previous year. This had to have been kicking around my head during the first Rock for Choice show with Nirvana but by this time it was starting to be a little more front and center.

And that too was another way this concert felt a bit like a repeat — the first time through was the Hollywood Palace rather than the Palladium but once again L7, understandably, were on the bill given their role in kicking off that whole series of shows and benefits. The intensity of the overriding issue of the show had hardly gone away, if anything it was ratcheting up. But the shadows were a little darker in my head for other reasons as well — I can’t quite put my finger on what prompted it, and the paranoia only really kicked in a few weeks later, but I was gripped for about the first couple of months of the year there with a convinced sense of ecological doom, like things were going to go down more quickly than anyone might have guessed. It was pretty black for a while there, I remember, and I don’t think I spoke about it to anyone, but I found myself going through the motions at my library job more often than not. It probably helped reconfirm what I was already thinking politically, but I am glad I didn’t stay in that mindset — it wasn’t (and isn’t) that there’s no reason to be concerned, but it was essentially unhealthy, defeatist.

I probably went with the same crew of people that I had gone to the last Fugazi show with — Steve M., Kris C., etc. as well as Jason B. I’m pretty sure. Once again I parked myself on the open balcony to observe the proceedings, probably from pretty much the same place I’d seen Fugazi the previous time. Torture Chorus were the MCs except that nobody exactly knew who they were — they seemed to be the Sister Double Happiness of this bill, except that they weren’t, given their role as band introducers and what have you. In trying to rack my brains for more info I gave up and used Google — turns out according to an entry here they were, at least for a Japanese tour that year, a group of four, two musicians and two performers doing some sort of theater of the absurd thing. I can only remember the two performers in that I’m pretty sure it was just a duo on stage, they had slightly weird outfits and they did all sorts of rants and chants and made animation noises, or so it seemed. Maybe the other two were there too, hidden away offstage. Again, very vague, very strange memories, but it probably helped to lighten my mood a bit. Then again, maybe it just made my mood a little worse.

The Lunachicks were definitely first in terms of band performances, though, and they were pretty damned kickass. I have no idea if they were lost in the mists of history when it comes to looking back on loud and great female bands of the era, all I know is that they were from New York and kicked up a hell of a ruckus. Makes sense that L7 had ‘em on the bill, I’m sure they jumped at the chance. It’s another blurry show for me beyond those general impressions except one point where their drummer (I think?) came out and took the mike to sing this heavy as hell song called “Super Strong” which was brawling, bold, had attitude, pick a cliche. And it was big and positive too, it was something that made you want to sing along just like that.

Then more Torture Chorus and then…Pearl Jam. So herein a story. Seeing the two bands that rapidly became the two bands in the public eye when everyone was wondering what this alternagrungeSeattlerock thing from Seattle was, Nirvana three months before and Pearl Jam at this point, was a bit of an education in perception, I suppose, but also kinda fun just because in both cases it wasn’t ‘their’ show but part of something else, part of something theoretically bigger than themselves. By that time I’d heard Ten enough times to know that I liked the slow ballads more in the end but I figured the show would at least be entertaining, and it was — in this weird sense first and foremost: when I saw them all jumping around on stage and kicking up a fuss and doing what they did, my thought was “Huh…they remind me a lot of Jesus Jones.” But they did! Them and Ned’s Atomic Dustbin for that matter, all kinds of running around and leaping in the air and general hyperactivity.

But do I remember much more of their set? Not really. This wasn’t the last time I saw Pearl Jam so that might have something to do with it but there’s only one clear moment that stands out in my head, which I think captures Eddie Vedder’s slowly dawning sense that he was caught between warring impulses and would continue to be. It was during some instrumental breakdown of a song, and Eddie stood near the edge of the stage, saying something like how he knew Ian Mackaye wouldn’t approve — and he wasn’t saying this mockingly, a la David Lee Roth trashing the Clash, but with an edge of earnest concern and regret, likely caused by him knowing that Fugazi were, as they proved to be throughout their career, going to stick to their own particular ideals to the end. And then Eddie took a dive into the pit and crowdsurfed away for a while. Perhaps it’s nothing but laughable in retrospect, his concern over that action, and yet it does seem to capture that whole ‘should I really be doing this?’ sense that’s been an undercurrent in Vedder the whole time.

I wish I could say more about L7′s set but this is mostly blank to me, to my regret. There were going to be more shows from them that year that did stick in the mind so I’m not totally peeved about the gap here; still, I’d like to think I would have remembered something from such a fantastic band given every show I did catch. Fugazi I remember more clearly but somehow things weren’t as awesomely great as they had been the first time around. Again, I think a large part of that had to do with the surprise being lost — I was so clearly expecting a show to be as jawdropping great as that introduction that maybe this show couldn’t quite measure up in the memory. Still, “Give Me the Cure” stands out — I think that might be my favorite song of theirs in the end, just for the focus, the slow build, the amazing ending. If they did it that first time I don’t immediately remember it but they definitely did it this time and it was all I could have asked for.

I think Ian may have even said something about Eddie’s statement earlier but that could be a bit of projection on my part. It was a good show, maybe not a truly great one, but still one with moments, even if things were a little more dark and unsure for me in general than I would have wanted, and even though the show could never fully drive that away.

Not Just the Ticket — #24, Nirvana headlining Rock for Choice, October 25, 1991

Then-current album: Nevermind

Opening acts: Sister Double Happiness, L7, Hole

Back of ticket ad: …I think the irony of a Domino’s Pizza ad on the back of a Rock for Choice ticket had to have spoken for itself at the time.

–

And what to say. What to say.

Maybe I can start with this — I think it was good, appropriate, that the only time I saw Nirvana was for a benefit show, and for an issue that I felt strongly about (and still do). The question of fame and the charity impulse is one that I’ve wrestled with on an observational level for some time — I posted in detail about an example on here some time back — and given the various help-Haiti singles out there now, the question seems newly relevant in terms of music. I can’t but think that if this was ‘just’ a show my memories of it would be different, or at least colored differently.

The thrill of drawing some sort of line in the sand had its own appeal, of course. It’s part of the sense of attending a show like this, ‘showing your support.’ I had sported my “KEEP ABORTION LEGAL” button on my blue satchel that inevitably used for class (and would for many years to come, button always present on it), part of my unspoken-but-clear method of keeping my sentiments hopefully obvious and plainly spoken. At the same time, would I have come to the show to start with if Nirvana weren’t headlining?

The answer I think would have been a clear yes thanks to the band who organized the show and general campaign to start with, L7. As mentioned in my post on their show with the Butthole Surfers earlier that year, the paths of L7 and myself — as well as Nirvana and Hole, for that matter — had already crossed in a very indirect sense. L7 were massive favorites for a number of friends as well as me so when the show was announced, that was interest enough; the fact that Nirvana were headlining, well, that made it a no-brainer.

I had already heard them, about a year beforehand — I had missed any attention around their first album, it must have been in at KLA but either my being home that summer or my general interests being elsewhere meant it was mostly a blank spot. It wasn’t that Seattle (or Sub Pop) weren’t starting to fire off something in my brain as a ‘oh yeah, them’ factor — Soundgarden and Mother Love Bone and probably Mudhoney were all kicking around in my head by the end of 1989. But Nirvana, not a jot, until the “Sliver” single came out — I remember a review on the station copy talking about how great the band and song were, and I enjoyed it, though I think the whole sad-sack vibe of the song was…not comical, but made it feel more like a novelty single than I might have guessed. It was a sweetly sad story from childhood that captured the all-or-nothing feeling of such a situation very well, sounded good, that was about that.

In fact I’m not even sure I immediately connected that song or band with the song that everyone started telling me about breathlessly in early September 1991. I remember getting a few phone calls: “Have you HEARD this yet?” Honestly, I hadn’t. Nevermind wasn’t something I was anticipating, seeing Nirvana on tour wasn’t something I was planning. But I did finally get around to a listen, then eventually got the album, and yeah, there was something there.

Which sounds dismissive; it isn’t. I sure did love the album, played it a lot, knew every song, remembered going “Wait, what?” when “Endless Nameless” kicked in after the album had supposedly ended — seriously, I got up from where I was listening and went over to the stereo, I was that baffled. I don’t think I was sensing my world changing or the world changing or anything like that, not with that surprise track or with the album as a whole — but, damn, it sounded good, sounded great. Loud and catchy, and I liked the way that the lead guy just went ahead and, to quote my friend Kris C., “just dyed his hair girly colors.” I think I made some joke about how they were a glam band in the end.

So the Palace once more — pretty sure it was Steve M., Kris C. and Jason B. I went with, or some combination of folks like that. A week previously it had been Pigface with their industrial/rock/whatever and then us confronting the KROQ dance crowd; now it was…well, I guess as much the first clear signal of Alternative Nation as anything else, though Lollapalooza had already kicked that off earlier in the year. Not that I remember anything much about the crowd other than the fact it was as excited as all hell.

I think we came in there when Hole were already on stage or had just taken it — I had heard something about them a bit, Pretty on the Inside had come out but I didn’t know if I had heard anything off it yet, probably had read a Melody Maker story by Everett True or two at least. I remember approaching the stage from the side of the bar where the ever convenient water fountain was found; Kris at least was with me and I think both of were terribly amused to hear the one song — name totally escaping me — which was essentially “Dark Entries” by Bauhaus. To the point where I think we just started singing the words to that instead. But Courtney Love was pretty damned fierce and loud on stage, couldn’t knock that at all. The rest of the band — drawing a complete and total blank. But they were there.

The emcees of the evening were an unusual combination — Alex Winter, taking a break from Bill-and-Ted-dom, and Kim Gordon. Well meaning enough though I can’t say I remember any deathless words; still, doubtless they underscored the whole point of the evening as benefit. I think there were the occasional cries of ‘get the band on’ or the like — or just random cheering or noise — and that probably helped underscore my own continual qualms about benefit shows in practice. They would return throughout the evening in between sets, but it was all a blur.

L7 were L7 and they rocked. That was the whole point, of course — word was already out that a new album would be due early next year, though I don’t know if it had been confirmed that Butch Vig was the producer at that stage (hell of a score, though, given Nevermind, and the label was more than happy to play that up in the end). One thing they did do, which I remember making more than a little fun of Kris about, was their rewritten cover of “Used to Love Her” — turned into “Used to Love Him,” of course. Kris, you see, was one of the world’s biggest Guns’n'Roses fans, though I think her patience with them was starting to collapse (thanks to “Don’t Cry,” I believe). I think she only jabbed me in the ribs once or twice.

I do remember I had to have gone into the lobby for a bit after L7′s set because whenever I came back Sister Double Happiness were on stage…boring everybody. This still takes the cake as one of the biggest ‘who are you and why are you here?’ missteps I’ve ever seen at a concert lineup — which is a little unfair, given that Gary Floyd’s role as the frontman for the mighty Texas punk band the Dicks had long since given him a definite immortality. (Heck, the Butthole Surfers named one of their best songs after him.) But Sister Double Happiness had never been anything but well-meaning blues stodge to my ears and that’s exactly what we got, and I remember the crowd pretty much just standing there and politely applauding between songs, and that was about it.

I think our bunch were all rolling our eyes, checking out watches and pretty much figuring out where to stand for the headliners, which explains how I was able to sneak up to the front in my usual nook position wedged between the speakers and the end of the stage front. Kris would have been with, and I definitely remember one of the staffers at the Westwood Village Penny Lane record store there as well — great place, one of the couple of stores I haunted regularly during my UCLA years.

And then — and I don’t remember anything momentous about their announcement by the MCs or the like — Nirvana.

Ten years after the fact, I included a brief description of the show in my first NaNoWriMo effort:

He didn’t remember much about the show. He had tried to get up close to the stage, risking the tight crushing and oppressive heat and sweat of the pit, the inevitable bruises, just to see his apparent new heroes. Cobain just looked down the whole time, singing into the mike but otherwise not doing much; still everything was good enough…

Which is about right. Krist Novoselic did all the talking that evening, and as fits the reputation of a guy who has since gone on to make a name for himself as a local and national political activist, he took the mike at various points to discuss why the band were here playing this particular show, the importance of the issue and so forth — not between every song, I think, but often enough. Sometimes it was just a few words, sometimes more — at one point he passed the mike to someone up in the front, but I think whoever it was just shouted the band’s name semi-drunkenly. Dave Grohl just hid out behind his drums and played the hell out of them as he so likes to do.

Kurt Cobain just stood there. He played, he sang, but otherwise, like I said, he looked down or away pretty much the whole time. I don’t recall him saying a word to the audience at all.

He definitely didn’t want to be there. Simple as that.

Retrospection puts too much emphasis on things sometimes. Nevermind wasn’t a chart-topper yet, Kurt Cobain wasn’t fully shaped in the public eye as a media-shaped caricature, much less a departed one. His passing was still two and a half years away. Who knows exactly what was going on in his head at that moment but I don’t think it was anywhere near the state he eventually found himself in.

But he had clearly already hit a limit. Friends who had seen the band on earlier tours confirm that he was, or could be, far more animated then, enjoying club dates, chatting with the audience. It was already too big for him even at that stage that I saw him at, he was too tired, too uneasy, who knows. It was a good enough show and I have no regrets at all, and yet I do. It would have been nice to have a ‘happy’ show in my head for contrast, or just to know that he was performing without feeling any sort of pressure, however self-induced.

I never saw them again — there were opportunities on return visits to the area then and again, one last time with the In Utero tour playing at the Forum. My friend Eric R. who went said something that I’ve always enjoyed — “Most everyone who was there were these young girls out with one of their parents, and it was the kids who were the fans.” I enjoy it because I think Cobain might have liked that audience, entertaining a bunch of kids with a loud rock, if it were a different setting, something smaller, more carefree. Why shouldn’t music work that way, when it does, so very often?

I used to be angry with him for his suicide, then I pitied him, and now?

What to say.

…has always been, and always will — until the end?

So. I had been pondering what exactly to write about today in terms of a certain bunch of simultaneous state primaries, but honestly I’d little to offer offhand. I have my hunches, they might all be wrong. I’ve already talked a bit about the California propositions, and there aren’t any local measures or races for me (there are in the neighboring cities of Newport Beach and Santa Ana but Costa Mesa is straight up nothin’). I won’t be voting until after work and the location is just two spots down from my apartment complex so it’s not going to be a big affair for me.

But then I read this Idolator piece about what musicians are supporting what candidates, which pointed to a bit of news noted in a Guardian piece today:

Libertarian long-shot Ron Paul is backed by Krist Novoselic, formerly of Nirvana.

I don’t know if my jaw dropped, but it felt like it. Turns out this has been public knowledge for a few months, but it was news to me. Wanting to make sure this was the case and not yet another example of ‘a friend of a friend told me,’ I did a quick scrounge and found that he has indeed contributed to Paul’s campaign — go to this site and search by his full name under ‘contributors’ — and he speaks more about Internet-driven candidacies with a brief reference to Paul in this recent column. Likely enough there are other posts and comments out there too, perhaps, and Novoselic’s general observations on the Net and politics in the piece I’ve linked strike me as worthy of deeper discussion.

There’s a specific reason why I’m shocked by his implicit endorsement of Paul, though, and it’s nothing to do with the fact that Paul’s rather unlikely to get the GOP nomination, to put it mildly. The various controversies swirling around Paul are noteworthy as well, but that’s not the reason either.

No, it’s this — to quote Paul’s own policy position:

The right of an innocent, unborn child to life is at the heart of the American ideals of liberty. My professional and legislative record demonstrates my strong commitment to this pro-life principle.

Paul’s position, while I disagree with it, is not the reason I’m moved to post on this subject — he has every right to hold to his views as I do with mine, after all. And Novoselic can believe what he wishes to as well. But let me tell you a story:

Back in 1991, there I was, living in LA, going to school, and being a big fan of L7 — great band, great performances, and bandleader Donita Sparks has just released a pretty cool solo album, though I digress slightly. Anyway, I’d heard that they were planning a benefit show for a new organization they’d founded called Rock for Choice, the position of which regarding legal access to abortion you can readily guess. Meantime, a band I’d heard a few times around KLA had just released a single called “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” which suddenly got airplay everywhere. Said band, it turned out, was going to headline the show. And so, for the one and only time in my life, I saw Nirvana perform, after seeing sets from Hole (first time I saw them as well), L7 and Sister Double Happiness — and lord did that group stick out like a sore thumb, but anyway.

I’ve often thought back to that show, almost by default — Cobain’s place as cultural figure being what it is, and also because it was a smallish show, but just after the initial deluge had begun. And frankly, it could be readily seen that Cobain wasn’t thrilled already with the newfound attention — the performance was great but he didn’t talk to the audience much or at all.

Novoselic, though, that was a different matter — he commandeered the mike at many points between songs to passionately note what the concert was a benefit for, the importance of the issue, much more besides. For me, this had all been coming after years of thinking about the matter as a slowly-more-aware teen news freak, observing the actions of Operation Rescue, probably hearing about the murder of abortion providers, and grappling with what is, after all, an incredibly complex and heartwrenching issue.

I make no apologies for my pro-choice beliefs but neither do I think it is anything less than one of the most intense, sensitive matters someone can grapple with. Honestly, I feel uncomfortable even talking about it now, and feel that this might be all I have to say on the subject. So to simply sum up, while I didn’t need to be urged on any further by Novoselic — indeed, I think I probably can look back to that moment as one of the many moments that confirmed that I’m simply not comfortable participating in political rallies of any sort — it was still an encouragement for me to draw certain lines in the sand.

So now here we are in 2008. Paul’s views haven’t changed. Mine haven’t. Have Novoselic’s?

First off, it would be hypocritical of me to say his can’t or shouldn’t. VERY hypocritical. After all, just yesterday I was posting a note about the link from Balloon Juice, and as noted John Cole’s own political beliefs and conclusions have shifted over time, completely in public. If Novoselic’s beliefs have shifted in turn, he has every right to do so, and he doesn’t have to spell them out. If they have shifted, by default that means pleasing some former opponents and disappointing some former allies — that is simply the nature of internal debate and external decision-making.

Second, while some more searching might well turn up more information, there’s no immediate indication his views have in fact altered, and perhaps they haven’t — I’d be happy to be corrected. Third, I find it hard to believe that Novoselic isn’t aware of Paul’s position — this is something Paul clearly states on his webpage, as noted, and which is an issue that is obviously of prime importance to him.

Turning back to the Novoselic column I linked, he says this — emphasis mine:

The caucus system, though imperfect, holds significance as a grassroots mechanism for people to associate and amplify collective values. The Internet is already doing this with campaign phenomenon like Howard Dean in 2004, and this year with Ron Paul. If candidates rise by the power of the Internet, the leap to an actual nomination via computers is not out of the question.

The key words are there — ‘collective values.’ Well then, what are those values in this case? In looking at the article as a whole, you’ll note it’s a fairly involved discussion of the voting process and how there might be ways to fix problems with same — which frankly leads me to think that Novoselic might only be invoking Paul as a symbol, maybe only contributing to him as a symbol, some sort of attack against the system — ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ writ large, or as large as possible. Given how the Paul campaign has been pitched, the attention given to him, the whole ‘Ron Paul Revolution’ hoohah…of course it’s seductive, aimed at a certain demographic and mindset.

But again, though, ‘collective values.’ Does Novoselic in fact stop at the words Ron Paul and go no further? Do most of Paul’s supporters and contributors, or even just voters in general? (Just now in the discussion to the Idolator piece someone wondered if in fact Paul was pro-choice, because he was a libertarian.)

This is not a piece to demand an answer from Novoselic or else — it is merely to ask the question, and to wonder out loud. But we can apply it to today in general as well — why are the decisions made as they do in the nominations for both parties, what calculations, what compromises. The phrase ‘the perfect is the enemy of the good’ has been posted on so many blogs, in so many columns, this past week that I’m now heartily sick of it. But it touches on something we all face — where do we draw the line in the end? Who do we choose and why? Do we fully appreciate why we choose it?

How do we square our ultimate choices with our beliefs? Can we?

Obvious questions? Doubtless. Sophistry? Perhaps nothing more. Yet these are not issues and points of debate to only be thought about in poli sci class discussion sections or writing courses and then never again. I am not the person I was in 1991. Neither is Paul, neither is Novoselic, neither is any of us.

And with that, if you are in a state holding a primary today and you are eligible to vote and there is something to vote on — vote. As simple as that. The marks made on paper, on the screen, are distillations of arguments and debates and conclusions that make my thoughts here look clear-cut. But they nonetheless must be made, and should be.

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