This is an experiment in the efficacy of Facebook. I would love to get in touch with David Byrne (yes, David Byrne of Talking Heads). I have just read his excellent book, How Music Works, and am inspired to reach out to him to collaborate, offer Woodshed Recording time, or just have a friendly email exchange or lunch. I could of course go the normal route – track down his management, etc. – but I am betting that someone on here knows him directly or at least has one degree of separation from him. I offer this story as a way to reach him. He speaks fondly in his book of his days performing with Talking Heads at CBGB OMFUG and of the other bands and overall scene there. Well, I was in one of those bands back then that shared the bill with them. I was part of a band of four called Yarbles (by the way, points to whomever can ascertain the origin of the name – Jamie Glaser, you don’t get to play the game). I like to think we were the world’s loudest jazz fusion band, descending on the Bowery from Berklee. Not exactly the type of band that a typical Talking Heads fan back then would enjoy. Nor was Talking Heads the kind of band that hardcore fusionnauts would normally seek out. Hilly (the owner) would double bill bands, with each band playing two sets. To minimize changeover time from band to band on the miniscule stage whoever opened for the first set would play last for the second set. We had played there with this arrangement quite a few times, always with a hardcore punk band. What was always amusing to us was that the punk audience would stand out on the sidewalk in their nose pierced mohawked glory while we performed our 200 bpm insanity and the bereted jazzers would wait out the punk band outside while they thrashed away. When we played with Talking Heads the place was totally packed (admittedly not that hard to do – it was, after all, a very small bar). Sitting at a little cocktail table right in the front row while the Heads were performing was none other than the absolute arbiter of all things hip back then, Andy Warhol. As soon as they finished their set we (and our fans standing outside) expected the usual changing of the audience. But something strange happened. Mr. Warhol apparently was fascinating in whatever article he was reading while we were setting up and just kept sitting there reading when we started our set. He was close enough to me that I swear the air forced from my Showman speaker cabinet was ruffling his paper. The punks didn’t know what to do. If Andy wasn’t leaving, then by damn neither were they. Our audience couldn’t get in and the befuddled punks were left with no choice but to listen to us. Finally, about halfway through our set, Mr. Warhol calmly folded his paper under his arm, got up, and walked out. The punk exodus was immediate. I wonder if Mr. Byrne remembers that night… So, facebookers, make my day. Forward this to David Byrne and get us in touch!
Posted on: Wed, 12 Jun 2013 19:10:41 +0000
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