Oh My Rockness Email Introductions

Way back, when for us going to a “show” meant the “Ice Capades,” the street in our town held our first-and-only late-night block party. And it was a RAGER! Barricaded off from the evil forces of all the Fieros and Firebirds, we reveled in the sensation of knowing we could do an asphalt snow angel right in the middle of the road if we wanted to.

We remember lots of ranch dip, some sensible “black snack” fireworks, and a licensed city official carefully tapping the fire-hydrant --- crazy! The party was accompanied by one big and boisterous boom box that cranked out all the party hits.

Not long after this “best day ever” turned to twilight though, we were sent inside to bed. We were so mad at the early exit we threw our E.T. bank across our bedroom, pulverizing his friendly head of plaster ---- we loved that goddamn bank. As we lay there, silently stewing in defiant non-slumber, we heard from the raucous street the beginning notes of a very familiar rhythm, and then that sick guitar lick came in, and then we heard our neighbors ROAR. The block party had just busted out “Beat It!” which was then tied with “Eat It!” for our very favorite song! No!

But rather than cry out from our prison of pillows, we stood up proudly, brushed off our Garfield jams, and used the opportunity to once again attempt to master the Moonwalk. Now maybe it was because it was dark, and our jams had slick glow-in-the-dark footies, and the floor was particularly waxy, and no one else was there to say otherwise, but we swear we got a few good glides in. We swear.

Of course, this long, boring story has nothing to do with Screaming Females, Blank Dogs, Sonic Youth, Handsome Furs, and The Drums all playing this week. It’s just, you know, a remembrance.