Brewed Beverage of Choice: A Pint of Bison Organic Farmhouse Ale
To say being a skateboarder in my hometown during the 80s made me an outsider is an understatement. Nowhere was this more evident than in the music we skate punks listened to. Bands like the Dead Kennedys, The Minutemen, Minor Threat, and Social Distortion could be found in my collection as well as all my friends. The reaction of classmates when you tell them the name of the band you are listening to was priceless: the puzzled look as if you were speaking a different language. It was inevitably followed by, “Who?”
One of the bands that grabbed my attention rose from the ashes of Minor Threat to form Fugazi. It was their social-political commentaries that spoke directly to a budding socialist, Native American historian such as myself. I still have a hard time explaining to people why I find the band so spell-binding. But, alas, it would be 10 or so years from my first introduction to them in the song, “Waiting Room,” before I would get the pleasure of seeing them live. Every time they came to Milwaukee, I was working. But in 1995, it was my time despite my having to drive 80 miles north to Green Bay to see the concert. Why? Because I was working the day they were in Milwaukee.
So the day finally came. None of my friends could go or wanted to go with me so I had to make the journey on my own. On the night of the show, I dropped my mom off from work and borrowed her car for the trip. Normally I would not listen to the albums of the band I am going to see on the night of the show. But in this case I made an exception and blasted them all the way up. I was on my way to heaven.
When I arrived in Green Bay, I had goosebumps. Roadtrips are amazing creatures especially when it involves something as nostalgic as this was to me. After driving around town for a bit I finally found the venue, parked the car, and in I went. The opening act tonight was Lungfish, a band I was not familiar with, but found them tantalizing enough to become a casual fan. After their set, I went into the beer garden and had me a pint whilst waiting for the boys. The electricity in the room got greater with every passing minute, and with little time left before Fugazi came on, I made my way closer to the stage.
Little did I know that the spot I would pick was directly in front of lead guitarist/vocalist Ian Mackaye. I still have a shrine to him magneted to my kitchen fridge. And then I saw them! They made their way out to their instruments, plugged them in, and without hesitation cranked into “Bed for the Scraping.” Behind me a mosh pit started pushing us in the front up against the stage. Remarkably and unexpectedly the music stopped confusing the moshing crew behind me. And next you heard Ian, “I am sorry, folks. There is no moshing at the show.” This was met with a ramble of boos, which was met with Ian’s exclamation, “Boo? Boo? If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out!” That was met with cheers. The loudest coming from the 5′ nil-inch woman standing directly in front of me. Who knew this punk girl could scream so loud.
The concert lasted about and hour and a half with Fugazi’s Ian and Brendan Canty belting out all their tunes. It amazed me that Ian still has a voice after all these years. His gruff screams are quite recognizable to any skater from the 1980s. After they finished up and exited the stage, I made my way to the car. The goosebumps I had upon arrival were still there. I got in the car, turned on the ignition, and, yep, put Fugazi on the tape player. It was, after all, a long solo ride home. By the end of the ride, my voice sounded like Ian’s. It was well worth the 10 year wait to see the band that still remains one of my favourites.
Prost!
the confucian (80s skate punk) brewer