Show date: August 23, 2010.
Black my favorite color, baby.
In the early 90′s I was being educated in Eastern Washington. Oh yeah. I went to school there. So what. I’m talking real learning here. Also, where I picked up my show habit that I’ve never kicked. Never want to.
The memories of venues I saw Black Happy perform in seem frozen in my mind. The Hoe-down, The Golden Nugget (that video(?) backdrop for that show scars me to this day), CUB Ballroom, Benton-Franklin County fairgrounds, Richland High School Auditorium, frat parties, etc etc, and…the infamous Greenstock-Mudstock debacle/epic party of 1993. The consistent characteristic of those shows? They all rocked. Never bad. Always good. When people ask me the band(s) I have seen most, I never say Black Happy. Even though that is the answer by a mile. Never thought about it in traditional rock show terms. Those days didn’t seem like shows. Or, ahem, concerts. It was just real life. A part of us and what we did.
Enough. Crocodile Cafe. Sunday night and Black Happy’s self-termed last show ever. This is the third consecutive night of a Croc Cafe residency. Nights are sold out. Haven’t been inside the Croc in a while. Layout is good enough for me. Awesome sight lines. A cool mezz and a friendly bar that will get you drunk if you put in the effort. Clean.
I’m wearing my Small (Tri-Cities, WA) band shirt and meet up with our buddy and his crew. Awesome people. Wandering around the venue I get stopped often to talk the good ole days with people from Grandview, Seattle, Spokane, Ellensburg, Tri-Cities, Pullman, and….you get the idea. Reminding me of bands I’ve forgotten. Sad Happy! What? Royball! Damn. I’m on the come down from a 20 year high school reunion the same weekend. Now I’m at my rock n’ roll reunion (R&R from Grandview and the Hoe-Down, represent!). Re-uniting with people I have rocked shows with back in the day but never personally known. And, catching up with my “new” and old friends. In a lot of ways this seems more satisfying. I didn’t choose my high school. I chose/choose to hang with these people.
We were lucky enough to stake out the first couple rows near Daryl (sax). I saw the setlist and got really excited. This show never really seemed real on my calendar. Just too bizarre, I guess. But here it is. Black Happy hits the stage. Paul on vocal, Greg on guitar, and well. I can’t resist, we have a little bass, drums (2 kits), we’ve got percussion, and horns, horns Horns, HOrns, HORns, HORNs, HORNS!! I won’t tease. Setlist
Dry and Confused
3-Day Weekend
F-Word
Black Radio
Mrs. Berri
Shuckin’ The Jive
Myself
Bullmonkey
Shoveljerk
Moflo
The New One
Yes…And It Counts
Holly Would
Garlic
Spirit
Chicken In A Biscuit
Mambo Jambo
Home
Such Much Suck
—->
After this the setlist is hazy for me, sorry! Some songs I remember are Washcloth, Two Hands And A Hat, One Fine Automobile, and Bubbles. We also heard some unreleased track or tracks.
For what we are about to receive, oh yeah, may the good Lord help us…
For what we are about to receive, oh yeah, may the good Lord help us
and then the horns and guitar kick in….it feels exactly the same. It really does. And then, what’s this? I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’m in the middle of a full blown pit like 15 years ago. Are we really doing that? Aren’t most of us too old? Oh, well. I’m wearing my Doc Martens from 1992. Wheeeeee!
Some things come back immediately, the way the horn players step up when Paul fades back. The way Paul crouches and points while singing. The trombones sliding into the crowd. The Croc has no fence around the lip of the stage. Security is on stage. So it literally seemed like we were looking up at the band right on top of us. Pure fire.
Hard metal, hard metal. You know the kids today with the long hair? They’re stabbing their parents. Setting dogs on fire.
Hearing “3-Day Weekend” live again? Let’s just say I was fully unprepared for a pit like a complete lamer. I’m jamming water bottles in my pants. Have moved my wallet to my front pocket. And started to try and figure out who around me had the potential to act like the biggest jackass. Like old times.
Within 10 minutes I have sweated myself sober. 20 minutes later, I’ve finished my third bottle of water. 40 minutes later all that water has been sweat into my shirt. And I’ve picked up other people’s as well. 4-3-2-1.
I think the first crowd surfer was spotted during “Black Radio”. Around there anyways. What goes up, must come down. By the end of the show, members of the band, spouses of the band, and I think someone else keeping people off stage had crowd surfed. You could always tell when someone from the band family was up, Paul would ask us not to drop them.
My favorite part of “Bullmonkey” was when the crowd took the we don’t play that game punk lyric. Why? Because we knew it. Like we knew it all. The crowd sang whatever they needed us to. Almost everyone there was pretty hardcore. To the nth.
Enough. This is turning into trip down memory lane. Set closed with two encores that consisted of some rarities, “Washcloth”, “Two Hands And A Hat”, and the last song of the night was “Bubbles”. I’m not sure that the whole band even knew how to play that one, but that is the way Paul wanted to go out. After the second encore, and the band had left, someone got up to say they had absolutely nothing left and we’re done. It was obvious. Paul was gassed and had his hands on his knees before leaving the stage. Everyone I was with was happy. It was time.
I really could write about this all day and night. It would be indulgent. Everyone had their scene and their memories. Crazy fun being at this show. Walking back to the Mayflower Park hotel at midnight isn’t exactly like kicking the gravel of the Benton-Franklin fairgrounds. Same pair of Docs though. Most importantly, I’m myself.
Thanks for everything Black Happy.
