I Hate Me, Part 476,111
My band opened up for garage rock forefathers The Standells (“Dirty Water”) a couple of weeks ago. Now my stage banter could charitably be described as understated. I always think that it’s at least 20 minutes between songs ( it isn’t but it feels that way to me) and how many times can you say “thanks for coming out”, “tip your bartender”, “we have merch“. Jon will kick in some banter but between us it sounds like neurosis on parade. Anyhow, as part of my banter I was going to read the poem that Herman Munster read in the episode of The Munsters that The Standells were in. Quality stuff and it would have taken up about a minute, a minute where I wouldn’t have to come up with my own material. So day of the show, I thought “man, I hope I don’t call these guys the fuckin’ Sonics. That would suck” and it stuck in my head. So after the third song of our set, “hey thanks for coming out tonight, we have a few more songs and then The Sonics” I didn’t realize what I said until I looked over at Jon and he gave me a “what the fuck” look. Aaaaauuuuurrrrgggghhhhh!!! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUUUCKKK! I did an imaginary loosening of a too tight tie and tried to explain it away saying that the odd acoustics of the room made it sound like I said Sonics when in fact I said Standells. I’m pretty sure nobody bought it. I never did my Herman Munster poem either.