Columbus Ohio – Love Letter To Columbus

Posted on by Jason McGathey — Leave a comment

High 5

Jump to yearly calendars:

2000

2001

2006

My first visit to the High Five Bar and Grill occurs on January 15 2000, when an all-star lineup performs AC/DC cover songs all night, as part of this “Bon-A-Thon” charity event. Among these were many friends of mine, in their recently reformed version of Bedlam. Left to right this translates as Alan Kline (drums), Brian Randolph (vocals), Paul Radick (rhythm guitar), Paul Linville (bass), and Damon Privette (lead guitar). Meeting at my apartment prior to the show, I was able to snap a few publicity photos of them, such as this one.

Unfortunately, we only decided to bust the camera out after they went through this costume wearing routine. Breaking out a bunch of random gear found in various corners of this place, Linville had on this crazy cape and purple, medieval looking vest with a matching black hat, skull and crossbones hatband. Alan throws on this business shirt, tie, and dress slacks ensemble left over from my banking days, whereas Brian takes his actual shirt off (in a foreshadowing of future, semi-controversial events) to walk around in a trench coat instead. Damon, meanwhile, brings his own crazy getup, of the very rock star-esque leather pants, but also this shiny shirt that looks red when viewed from one angle, black from another. Radick alone takes the sensible route in wearing his normal street clothes. Nonetheless, just prior to picture time, and long before the show, nearly everyone reverts back to form – Alan alone wears his borrowed costume out to the club.

I actually covered this “Bon-A-Thon” event for a short-lived Mansfield monthly, a black and white local music mag, and still have a copy somewhere. Until I stumble upon that article, though, and can crib some of that material, these notes will have to suffice. Let me say that finding out anything online about the High Five, which bit the dust in 2008, has proven extremely difficult. As always, if anyone has any info or any other hotline tips to submit, these would be most appreciated. Until then there’s my skeletal commentary here to tide you over.

Bedlam have only played Columbus on very rare occasions, such as a weekend back in January of ’96. Their stance has always been a valid one, paradoxical though it may seem: Columbus bands make far less money from the door than they would in other, smaller towns, like the ones in the Mansfield region to the north. At that time (mid 90s – early 00s) it was not unheard of for a very good band, of which they are one, to pull in at least $300 a night playing various bars around those towns. I know of at least one popular metal outfit who was making $600-$900 per outing, in podunk places like Shelby. The problem with a scene like Columbus is not just one of competition, but also a heavily ingrained culture, decades in the making. It’s common practice around here to have 3-4 bands splitting a bill, and fighting for the door. As such you would have to draw 3-4 times as many people just to bring home the same loot. Assuming you were playing for the door at all, and weren’t just being paid in skunky draft beer or something.

Whatever the case, this is for a good cause, they are mostly all AC/DC fanatics, and it promises to be a great time. There’s also the opportunity for networking and promotion, not to mention reestablishing themselves in light of one other important fact: this is the first Bedlam show in about 3 1/2 years. They actually broke up in late ’96. As such, this is not only their initial trial run since reforming, but Brian Randolph’s debut with the group. In fact, as Privette and Linville were splitting vocal duties before, this is their first attempt at having a dedicated frontman, period.

After shooting these photos, we head out in two vehicles, which translates as Kline and Linville riding with me, the other three in Radick’s car. They’re following us most of the way, although we manage to lose them somewhere along High Street, just south of campus. Though driving around a bit, looking for them, we finally park, figuring they’ll find their way somehow or another. We order a couple of pizzas from the Papa John’s down the street, then stand around outside in hopes of spotting the others. At last, they appear, walking up to us from the south on High Street. Turns out Radick had hit a pothole which somehow managed to screw up his power steering, and now the car is parked blocks away while he tries to figure out what to do.

So while Alan goes to grab the pizzas, the rest of us have no choice but to retreat to Radick’s car instead, pitch in to retrieve the rest of the equipment. Well, everyone but Brian, who insists he must remain indoors to “protect his voice.” En route, Radick’s on the phone with his dad, getting advice about the car predicament.

Back at the bar, the crowd is small at first but fills up quickly, despite a somewhat steep at the time $5 cover. Our buddy Travis Tyo shows up, though he’s not playing with own band Superstar Rookie tonight. Instead, he’s joining forces with Dan Focht of Salthorse and some other local cats. As far as friends in the crowd, Damon’s sister makes it here with one of her chick friends, Radick’s sister with a couple of her own. The ever present Sean Gardner’s wandering the premises, although I don’t recall him playing with anyone this evening. Also, in another unexpected twist, we bump into former classmate Jason Woods, despite only spotting him I think one other time in three years of living here.

As far as what’s happening on the stage, two middle-aged guys on acoustics play first. Though the purists might think this is horseshit, I kind of like the distinct spins everyone is putting on these old AC/DC chestnuts. Following them is an outfit calling itself Servants of Evel (as in Knievel), which features a redhead chick singer in a red, white and blue bikini top. After their set, I’m “interviewing” the singer for my own goofy ass purposes. She says her outfit was designed after Evel’s motorcycle logo, but of course I could have already guessed that.

Other than this, I break off from our crew for a little while and dance with some hot girl named Nicole, meet some other lady in furs. In between this, I’m getting caught up in some tiny Bedlam related drama. Brian is dealing with a case of the nerves, wants to read off lyric sheets while singing, as in literally stand there holding sheets of paper at the microphone. I’m guessing teleprompters are out of the question here. The other guys are bitching to me about it, Linville especially, but nobody has told Randolph point blank that this is out of the question. I finally decide to tactfully approach Brian, despite not having any actual dog in this fight, and tell him that he doesn’t need the lyric sheets, because nobody pays attention to the words anyway.

And yet he takes these pieces of paper up with him regardless. But it doesn’t really matter, as Bedlam go over extremely well, playing a five song set of the classics: Big Gun, Gone Shootin’ and Shot Down In Flames I know for certain, as well as two others. The only blemish proves to be Randolph’s doing, although this particular development blindsides everyone, has nothing to do with the lyric sheets: at some point in their set, he whips off his black tank top, and is standing there shirtless. As in, he thinks that the chicks will be impressed by his wicked buff bod or something. I am hanging out near the stage when this happens and witness the whole thing. Kline and Linville tell him straight up that if he ever does this again, he will be immediately fired.

They have a point, considering that I actually hear girls in my vicinity groan when this transpires. But, I don’t know, it sure seems like certain personality types are drawn to certain roles within a band, and this is what you’re signing up for if you decide to take on a front man. From a performance standpoint he can certainly deliver the goods, except, well…you might have to endure some cheesy moments, such as this. I still think it’s a mostly worthwhile tradeoff.

As soon as their set ends, I make a bee line for the bar, and bump into Jason Woods yet again. We’re leaning against the bar, with our backs to the stage, chatting about our current jobs, when the announcer guy congratulates Bedlam from the stage. At which point Woods just about chokes on his drink, at the shock value in hearing that name. He has talked to the guys a little bit here, of course, but apparently didn’t realize that they were still going by Bedlam, as they were clear back in the early high school days, nearly a decade ago.

“Are they still using that name?” he marvels, though that is obviously the case.

In other developments, there’s this Arty guy who is connected to High 5 in some capacity, playing bass for Pat Dull & His Media Whores. He’s wearing this very shiny outfit and they go over extremely well, in fact I would say they are the crowd favorite. Travis and his thrown together crew play a killer set, too. They all wore plain white tee shirts here, because the original plan was to spit fake blood during their set; that plan was eventually scrapped, and yet the tee shirt look prevailed anyway.

Melissa and her sidekick are bored to tears at this point, announce they’re heading out. But Shelly and her very attractive friends are having a great time, in fact they are talking about partying with us at my pad afterwards. So Damon and I spring for a bunch of carryout beer. Even Radick, who has pounded a few ales and is pumped up about their seamless return to form, is in buoyant spirits, says fuck the car, he’ll worry about that tomorrow. We’re trying to talk Travis into riding out to my apartment, too, but he explains he lives in Grandview and isn’t about to drive that far tonight.

Then, after we’ve already bought the damn beer, the girls back out and leave. This means that the six of us, their equipment, and the carryout beverages must all fit in my Geo Storm, as we drive halfway across town. Somehow, we just barely manage to pull this off.

Okay, so that’s all I have at the moment on the High 5. Over the years to follow, however, I will attend countless other shows here, which I hope to transcribe in the near future. In the meantime, all I can tell you is that this place was sold in late 2008 to a few guys around town, including the owners of Skully’s and somebody from Ravari Room. They began remodeling the interior, but only got around to formally rebranding it as Circus in early 2009. So there’s that, and there’s also this mighty incomplete events calendar, which is all I’ve been able to cobble together thus far:

Year 2000 Events Calendar:

January 14: New Bomb Turks

February 1: Plague Daddy, which is some kind of free techno show

February 3: Pfifer, The Marbles, Mr. Earl

February 5: Gossamer, Low Sunday, Monster in Your Closet

February 7: Spoken Word Night. Either that or this is the name of a band – which, come to think of it, wouldn’t be a bad marketing strategy.

February 8: Plague Daddy techno again

February 10: Superstar Rookie, 84 Nash, Pat Dull and the Media Whores. I attend this show but must admit to not remembering many specifics.

February 11: Templeton, Prospect, and Silo The Huskie

February 12: Anger Nation and Crush Effect

February 14: At least some people theoretically spent Valentine’s at High 5, where Tixeon DJ is plying his wares.

February 18: Combine, Sporadic Still, God Thought

February 19: The Mendalsonics, The Sovines, and The Wahoos

February 21: Tixeon DJ again.

February 22: Plague Daddy again.

February 23: The Vague and Mr. Earl

February 25: Gigolo Skills and Miranda Sound

February 26: Dubok vs. Evolution Control Committee, whatever this is.

March 9: Superstar Rookie, May/June, Pat Dull & his Media Whores

March 10: Templeton, Beta Roric, Rancid Yak Butter Tea Party

March 30: Green Sky Grey, Season’s End, Turnbull

March 31: Jive Turkeys, Jack Neat, Lylo

April 21: The Breakdown

May 9: Furnace St. and Chew’s Eye Shop

August 5: Ronnie Dawson

Year 2001 Events Calendar

January 14 – New Bomb Turks, Cult of the Psychic Fetus

March 3 – Owen Grey, The Stapletons

March 4 – Punk Rock Matinee beginning at 6pm. Features Nothing to Lose, Innocence Lost, The Creeps and more

March 5 – Man Planet, Hex on Wheels, Neverwhere, Japanic

March 6 – Punchy, Trapper John

March 7 – In Motion w/ DJ Eric D, Rotating E.D. Prodagy, Noah Nine

March 8 – The Urban Funk Ordinance, HeeVahAva, Amara

March 9 – The Flux featuring members of Gunga Din, Gil Mantra Party Dream, Jack Diesel

March 10 – Silver Star, Phantom 13, Something Said

March 11 – another Punk Rock Matinee. This one features Jessie & the Rippers, Little Orphan Anarchey (sic), The Brute AFO, 5 Foot Nothing

March 12 – Cee Knowledge & The Cosmic Funk Orchestra (tentative)

March 13 – Pop Sound Lounge

March 14 – Jeremia Grotto, The Husher

March 15 – Basrtard Squad, Hex on Wheels

March 16 – Jessie & the Rippers, Criminal Authority

March 17 – The White Outs, Bob City, A Planet For Texas

March 18 – Punk Rock Matinee again. This time it’s Rancid Yak Butter Tea Party, Half Barrel, 12oz Rebels

March 20 – Pop Sound Lounge

March 21 – Leveled, Diluted

March 23 – Doors-A-Thon for the Open Shelter

March 24 The Cusacks (plus unnamed support act(s))

March 25 – Punk Rock Matinee. Face Down, Burning Dawn, The Creeps, Innocence Lost

March 27 – Pop Sound Lounge

March 28 – In Motion w/ DJ Eric D

March 29 – Mercy Township and unnamed support act(s)

March 30 – Pat Dull & Media Whores (tentative)

March 31 – Ohio Punk From 2001 (part 1). Starts at 5pm and is an all day showcase. Innocence Lost, 12oz Rebels, Time has Come, The Creeps, Lazy American Workers, Blatant Finger, LegBone, ScallyWagon, 2% Talent, The Echoes, The Throbs, In Common, The Hitchcocks, Jerkwater Jive, Ska Blue plus Food, Drink, Videos, DJ.

October 11 – One Drop, Trailer Park Ninjas

October 14 – 5 Hand Gang, Speed Devils

October 15 – karaoke

October 16 – DJ Kinkey Doll, DJ Kahkai

October 25 – Lowdown, Unlearned, Soma, High More Body

October 26 – Urn, Gossimer, Josh Roxxx

October 27 – Trailer Park Ninjas Halloween Party

October 28 – 60 Watt Jackass, Crooked Country, Two Cow Garage, Full Custom Time Bombs (or is it Full-Custom Tim, and F Bombs?), Ukelele Man. Different ads list slightly different lineups, though, so it’s possible some of these acts didn’t play.

October 29 – karaoke

October 31 – Separation of Terms, More Plastic

November 2 – Cringe CD release after party. They are also judging and announcing winners for a new logo contest. According to one ad, the owner’s predelections are “jack of hearts, guitar, guns, voluptuous women.” Local musicians, artists, media, and owner comprise the judging panel. I’m not sure how it turned out, although hopefully it solved the High Five/High 5 disparity – they usually display their name as High 5, but events calendars usually list them as High Five. I like the way High Five looks better personally, but I understand the thinking behind the other, official name, considering this is near the corner of High and 5^th.

Year 2006 Events Calendar

January 2 – punk rock karaoke. This is a Monday, and they have the exact same thing booked for all Mondays, so you get the drill. I won’t be listing them all. Someone named GURU hosts these things and the bar features half price pitchers on PBR, Bud, Bud Lite.

January 5 – Somany Dynamos, I Against The Tower. This is an early show.

January 6 – Houses, Ashley Creek, Cale, Autumns Last Romance. This is an early show.

January 7 – Chris Mills and the New Miserable Bastards, Two Cow Garage, Chris McCoy and the Gospel

January 8 – at 2pm Jack Rinella hosts the first NLA meeting of the year, revolving around the topic of “Bedroom Play.” This has something to do with folks who are into leather for spicing up their sex life. A $2 door charge contributes to the cause.

Much later, there’s a good ol’ fashioned music show featuring Peelander Z, Marvin The Robot, and Ali Zjana.

January 12 – Deadwillrise, Harlots, Burning Love Letters.

January 13 – Audible Detonation (the bar’s website at this time raved about the band, saying, “High Five loves this band! They’re crazy, they’re fun, they’ll make you dance.”), The Real California (which features Ron and Don from The Peachbones.)

January 14 – Rapfest twin bill with both Kadiz and Lyrical having a CD release party.

January 15 – Girls Girls Girls, One Step Ahead

January 16 – Possibly Cyborgs play an early show. This is before the punk rock karaoke juggernaut lumbers to its feet.

January 17 – Femme Fatality, The Colour Scheme, The Stock Market Crash, Anna Ranger

January 19 – Day 9, Lead the Children to the Slaughter, An End To All This

January 20 – MC battle

January 21 – Kati’s graduation party, from 5-9pm. Then the Evolved Kings Of Rock hoedown, hosted by columbusparty.com and featuring at least 8Kount, Simply Waiting, possibly others.

January 24 – They start (at least I think it begins here) this new thing that sounds kind of cool, Tuesday Amateur Nights. Lasting from 8 to 10, it costs $15 to register, though this does get you passes for two guests to come watch you play. It says they are using “Apollo style judging,” whatever that means, and the winner gets $150. Will repeat on future Tuesdays hereafter.

January 25 – following an open dodgeball night at nearby Thompson Rec Center, there’s an afterparty here at the bar. Optional $1 donations are encouraged and it runs from 8-10pm.

January 26 – A dance party called UNDERGROUND, which is also known as Less Than Zero, features what sounds like someone spinning classic records ranging from Britpop to punk to new wave and so on. No cover charge. It will repeat as a recurring event on most but not all Thursday nights.

January 27 – Novemberkills plays an early show. Then later there’s a packed set at normal hours with Jonathan Burgess, Wake Up, The Blue Eyed Gunslingers, Asthmo, and Supersonic Theory.

January 28 – multi-level Battle of the Bands begins tonight. There are 3 rounds of competition, with the next occurring on Feb 25 and Mar 25. A list of the known participants: Dissonant Hatred, Occams Razor, Study of Revenge, Once Pure, Caje, Halo Effect, Sour Blood, Pollock, Ripcord, 1 Point 3, Bishop.

First place, which I’m guessing isn’t handed out until the final night in March, includes a sponsorship deal with Rockstar Energy Drinks, 10 hours of recording time, a music video filmed by Columbus Productions, press kit submissions to major labels, prizes from Evolved Body Art, and an unspecified cash windfall.

Second place nets prizes from Evolved Body Art and a press kit from Columbus Productions, but what also might be the most bizarre/hilarious reward for any such competition, ever: they will film half of a music video for you. How does that work, exactly? I am now dying to know how this turned out and what the finish product wound up looking like.

January 29 – Battle Of Gettysburg, Triceratops

February 1 – Shuttlecock, Freedom

February 3 – some sort of Myspace party. DJs, drink specials, and no cover charge.

February 4 – so this is something else new they are starting, which is a “Psychedelic Supper” on Gallery Hop nights (first Saturday of every month.) Running from 5-9pm, it will feature a meal, of course, but then followed by live music from Mas Bagua – this is presumably the psychedelic part, and not anything you will be ingesting.

February 5 – quite the action packed day here. First, from 1-5pm, there’s a rugby party hosted by Scioto Valley and OSU’s teams. Then there’s a Super Bowl gathering later, featuring 25 cent wings, the game itself of course, a halftime draft for what I’m guessing is a fantasy football league organizing this event (called the QuarterBack Club), and then afterwards DJs Alan Greenspin, Detox, and Kenny Ki scratching records or whatever it is they do.

February 6 – the usual Monday night punk rock karaoke thing has been upgraded, tonight only, to Strip Tease Karaoke. Hosted by “local hotties” the Project X Girls.

February 7 – and now the weekly Tuesday amateur night is followed by a proper show, featuring Circle Takes The Square, Junius, and Freedom.

February 8 – Old English, MOB, We Rise Records, Sangreal

February 10 – In what is to be a multi-week installment, donewaiting.com kicks off its 3 year anniversary party. One thing that’s odd about this is they don’t appear to have written about the shows at any point on their actual blog. Like I could find nothing, before or after, relating to these events in the slightest. Then again, can I reasonably claim there have never been any bizarre and baffling marketing lapses in my own half-baked strategies? Not exactly. But anyway, Sweetheart, Houseguest, The Six Parts Seven, and Beaten Awake are the scheduled performers for tonight. Celebrations will continue on the next two Fridays as well.

February 11 – Marah, a band Stephen King is apparently really into. Unless this is a made-up quote.

February 12 – Mice Parade, Pompeii, This Morning, and Elephants Gerald

February 16 – speakerFIRE, Listed M.I.A., Lest Still Bleeding, and Probably Cyborgs play an early show. Then Edith Frost, The Zincs, and Tiara play one at the proper time.

February 17 – Donewaiting’s celebrations extravaganza continues with Little Darlings, 333, Mixtape vs. Atakbot, and Apocalypso as the scheduled acts.

February 18 – An early show features 1931 (for a CD release), Kill What I Adore, Gone To Graceland, and The Bloodstain Prophecy. Then much later, at 11pm, there’s a Rapfest with acts, in running order, Infinite, Lyrical and the Association, L-Marr The Great, Blackhouse, Streetkor, Distinct1, and Swift all on a tightly wound schedule. Tito 6, who was recently signed to Shady Aftermath, makes a special guest hosting appearance. Doors open at 9, though, with DJ Carma spinning records for a couple hours. $5 cover, $1 drafts, $2 imports, $5 uh, Hennesey and Heineken combo? That’s what the ad says.

February 19 – something which didn’t happen but has me intensely curious about it, and thus I will list here anyway: Report Suspicious Activity, The Bomb, and Early Empire were supposed to play, but the show was cancelled.

February 22 – The Black Angels, The Slide Machine

February 24 – Donewaiting’s anniversary wraps up with Envelope, The Evil Queens, Miranda Sound, and Necropolis

February 25 – the three part battle of the bands (from January 28) continues. Group B so to speak features the acts Azygous, Templetons Zeal, Day Nine, The Nothings From Nowhere, Addison Iane, The Most Beautiful Losers, An End To All This, Caption, Triceratops, and Mystic Syntax

March 1 – Curt Kirkwood of Meat Puppets fame plays a solo gig here. The Rackets open for him.

March 3 – not entirely sure what’s happening here, but it sounds pretty awesome. “Columbus Dude Band Extravaganza,” says it is starring Freedom, Pretty Weapons, Sweetheart, and a couple other acts. Come hear us sound like your dad is the tagline for the show, listed on the High Five events calendar. In other news, something billing itself as Nicks Shit Fit is also on the docket, though it’s unclear if this is related to the dude band blowout or what. All we have to go on by way of description is that this is a “doom patrol” of some sort.

March 4 – the whole Mas Bagua/Psychedelic Supper thing, tying in with the Gallery Hop, happens again from 5-9pm. After that, you are encouraged to “come enjoy the hospitality of the OSU Women’s Rugby team,” heh heh, from 9 o’clock onward. This is related to some Arnold’s Fitness Classic afterparty that they are hosting here.

March 6 – Strip Tease Karaoke again, featuring Project X Girls and free giveaways. This seems to be a first Monday of the month occurrence, an appendage to the punk rock karaoke on all other Monday nights.

March 8 – another dodgeball afterparty

March 10 – The Life And Times, Russian Circles, and local band Miranda Sound.

March 11 – Desolate Mindframe, A Vicious Cycle, Life Shot, Study Of Revenge

March 12 – An extensive early show featuring Valencia, Time and Distance, Dusty Innocenti, Five Year Breakup, and Levi

March 14 – Psyclon Nine, The Brown Notes. DJ FailSafe opens.

March 15 – The Receiver, Eagle Seagull, Pirate

March 16 – Folly, The Static Age, Paulson play an early show, followed by the whole UNDERGROUND dance party thing

March 17 – the latest Evolved Kings Of Rock with a bill of Ryan Smith and the Agency, Bullet Jones, Nicholas Williams. Before that, there’s an early show involving The Junior Varsity and the awesomely named Small Towns Burn A Little Slower.

March 18 – and now the latest Rapfest. Distinct1, Forever Fam, Catalyst vs Kadiz, RNS, and Lyrical are the performers. DJ Carma is “dropping straight hip hop sets,” whatever that means, during the interludes.

March 19 – Simply Waiting and All Left Out

March 21 – Kiss Me Deadly

March 22 – Aloha, Kopaz, and Jon Chinn

March 24 – Haram with opening act Freedom

March 25 – At 3pm, the Scioto Valley RFC rugby team has their social event here. Later, the third and final night of that multistage Battle Of The Bands (January 28, February 25) concludes with the finalists pulled from the first two shows. The roll call is as follows: Azygous, An End To All This, Occams Razor, Once Pure, Day Nine, Mystic Syntax, A Vicious Cycle, Caje, Ripcord, Study of Revenge. Although at present, I haven’t discovered who won.

March 26 – an early show that appears to be some traveling horde from Portland, Oregon. At least four and probably all five bands hail from there: Privacy, A John Henry Memorial, The Watery Graves of Portland, TI-83, and Thanksgiving.

March 28 – Premature Burial, The Bloodstain Prophecy, 4th Plague

March 29 – at 8pm, the Ohio Roller Girls conduct their league meeting here. This gives way to a show headlined by My Way My Love (all the way from Japan), opening acts 333, Church of the Red Museum, and Kim Chi

March 30 – an early all ages show featuring The Joggers and Oxford Collapse. Then later UNDERGROUND again.

March 31 – another Rapfest

April 1 – Gallery Hop deal with Mas Bagua again. Also something called Funk Fashion featuring J Rawls. Cosmo martini specials are in store for the lucky visitor.

April 2 – Liz Janes is in town and is joined by a free jazz group called Create (!) – and yes that exclamation is part of the name, not my doing. Half-handed Cloud and Parker Paul are also on the bill.

April 3 – something called “hold” is listed as the early show. Later comes the strip tease karaoke business.

April 4 – A duo called Dangerzone, which features Amos Famous and Bru Lei, graces the stage. Kru Kid is also in the mix somewhere.

April 5 – a show featuring 1 Point 3, Black Cobra, and the incredibly named If He Dies He Dies.

April 6 – Racebannon, Gospel, Freedom all play. There’s also that Underground dance party business at some point, either before or after or between these bands.

April 7 – Centro-Magic, Great Lake Swimmers, and Two Cow Garage play. That last one is touting itself as “the last rock and roll band.” I like these guys, but that’s a bit much.

April 8 – Call Me Lightning and I Against The Tower play an early show. Later, there’s a “Skatetillion Ball” offering patrons the chance to meet the various teams of the Ohio Roller Girls League: Band Of Brawlers, Take Outs, Blackeyed Bullies, and Sprockettes. DJs Moxy and Drastic soundtrack this soiree.

April 9 – This month is littered with dates on the High Five website’s event calendar where they have an entry marked “hold (rd)” or in one instance “hold (nw)” as it was on April 3 also. I have no idea what this means, but today is one such day. It’s possible this is some kind of TBD designation that they used internally and only made sense to them. So while it’s possible this is the name of some performer, I’m guessing no.

There is an early show listed however featuring Capital Tragedy, November Kills, Triceratops, and Philo.

April 12 – Torche and The Sword

April 14 – An event for some entity called columbusparty.com

April 15 – A tribute night in honor of the Uncle Tupelo/Wilco/Son Volt family tree of music. I’m not sure exactly which performers were involved, however.

April 17

John Vanderslice is in town for a gig, with Wooden Wand for support. There’s also a punk rock karaoke just like all other Mondays. Here’s my notes on the show:

Opening act (must be Wooden Wand) is this bland folk trio with a hot skinny brunette singing mostly unnecessary backups to main guy; she sang lead some and sounds good but her background vocals – not harmonies – pretty, yet thin, mostly just echo same note guy was singing, or close to it.

Anyway, JVS: every bit the disheveled weirdo I’d hoped. Drummer is this dark haired stocky guy, Dave, vaguely looks like a car mechanic to me, but rocks; lanky bass player with Tony Allmon haircut, also named Dave, also rocks. In fact although I was expecting a somewhat tinny sound, the whole band rocks it up to a surprising degree. Keyboard player curly red Sammy Hagar type poodle-do, somewhat of a big nose (drinks Capt N’ Coke, though, I notice), nice vintage equipment; John plays some sweet hollow body guitar with f-holes.

The band is in a jovial mood. John says t hey have “about 70 songs” to pick from; takes requests throughout show but mentions this an asks if it’s “okay” if they don’t know that song perfectly, but try it anyway. He also mentions they hit Cleveland twice on their last tour – 2 different stops – but skipped Columbus entirely. Until he got so many emails he knew he had to come here this time around. And is blown away by reception, says, “we’ll have to come here every time now.”

And then polls the crowd with a serious question, asking, “what’s the largest city in Ohio?”

“C-bus!” most everyone shouts.

“C-bus,” the bass player repeats, chuckles, looking at John, “I like that.”

They’re also cackling over a song that John says he just heard for the first time last night and is totally smitten with, it’s that J-Kwon rap number about e-body in the club gettin tipsy. He doesn’t seem to know that this song is about 2 years old. The bass player even beckons this kid up from the crowd – some well dressed young Asian lad – to speak that line into the mic. John then mentions the punk rock karaoke they’re having after this show (it’s an early one, started at 8) and promises they’ll hang around, fire this cut up for the occasion (he has the CD with him).

As far as their own material, they play Keep Dream Alive, Time Travel, that song about you’re a stripper now…in New Orleans, and I would say about 1/3 of the songs are familiar. Regarding this bar, our Rolling Rocks are cheap; there’s this huge mural on the wall behind the stage, end to end: pirates, galleons, sea serpents, etc, very heavy on the blues and purples and blacks. Band keeps equipment in chill out alcove accessible both from stage and hall – video game blocked in.

Smoking patio out back now. They still serve food here, the bartenders fighting through the crowd with plates, which seems ridiculous given the size of this mob. I’m sure they hate it. As promised, as soon as the gig is up, the J-Kwon cut is thrown on and the band mingles with us for a bit.

April 20 – You Will Die perform, and otherwise there’s an Underground dance party just like all other Thursdays.

April 21 – Fine Dining and The Proper Nouns play.

April 22 – Another Scioto Valley RFC rugby team social event, beginning at 3pm

April 23 – Capital Tragedy play another early show, joined this time by Inked In Blood, Hand to Hand, and 1931.

April 26 – High On Fire, Goatwhore, and Waiting To Die. A solid Wild Oats contingent and other assorted associates are in attendance.

April 28 – first there’s an early show featuring Bottom Line, Break Away, and The Aesthetics. Later, a Tribal Night hosted by Raks Jahanni, with special guests Snakes Rising

April 29 – Scioto Valley’s rugby squad convenes here again, at 3. Later there’s a CD release party for Aether.

May 1 – a bit confused because according to their events calendar, tonight is a party celebrating their 2nd anniversary. But I’ve been coming here since early 2000 and they were certainly in business before then, for who knows how long. So was this place closed at one point? Did it change hands or undergo a remodel/rebrand? That could maybe explain the switch from apparently preferring High 5 in the early days, to styling it as High Five in more recent ones. Whatever the case, it’s also a party for Evolved’s sixth year in Columbus, with the whole Strip Tease Karaoke thing a-happenin’

May 5 – Thought Set and a Cinco De Mayo party

May 6 – Mas Bagua and the whole Gallery Hop thing

May 12 – First, an early show featuring Bloodstain Prophecy, Every Bridge Burned, The Devil Wears Prada, and 1931.

Then later it’s a bash celebrating Sean’s birthday. Freedom, Tree Of Envelope, and Pat Minotaur are on the docket.

May 13 – Desolate Mindframe, Lifeshot, Stapled Mouth Shut, Axiomatic, Human Incineration

May 14 – An early show involving Chiodos, Number 12 Looks Like You, Lorene Drive, and The Blackout Pact

May 19 – First another early show, this time with Clearview Kills, Near Miss, and The Finals. This is followed by a BA Baracus CD release event, with Earwig and Welcome To Bangkok also on the bill.

May 20 – Weightless Records, a local hiphop label, stages an all ages show. The Other Paper reviews this in the issue that follows. According to the piece written by Rick Allen, Blueprint leads off the show by explaining that the format will be somewhat unusual, in that everyone will only be performing a couple songs apieces. “Tonight, everyone is headlining,” he is quoted as saying.

Greenhouse Effect kicks things off, with Amos Famous in the role of DJ, and are described as only okay; Blueprint, Manifest, Envelope, and Zero are all given high marks, however.

May 24 – Phobia, Electro Quarterstaff, Disfear, Misery Index, Strong Intention, Bohemian Grove

May 25 – Hempfest Fundraiser. Bum Wealthy, RTFO Bandwagon, Fists Of Fusion, and Doug Guttenberger are the listed acts.

May 26 – Growing Thrones. (Kranky) is also listed off to the side, in the High Five ads, whatever that means.

May 27 – Battle Of The Bands. Last Minute Messiah, Life Shot, House Of Cards, and Threshold Of Pain are the listed acts. Doors open at 5pm.

May 28 – 30 OT 6, Left 4 Dead, and Grey Scale

June 2 – Infinite Number Of Sounds, Ocean Ghosts, Electric Grandmother

June 10 – early show is Queen Anne’s Revenge, A Vicious Cycle, and Azygous. Late show is Foley.

June 11 – early show is Jetpack U.K. Late show is Yekrats, Winston Jazz Routine, One Life Lost, and Statebird.

June 17 – an early show featuring The Fold

June 24 – another battle of the bands

June 25 – Dysrythmia, Behold The Arctopus, Idiedtrying

High Five July 2006 events — it seems redundant to list these, when I already have the picture

July 29 – battle of the bands

August 2 – Only Flesh, Mankind Is Obsolete, Ohm Ghost

August 26 – battle of the bands

September 21 – an early show features Much The Same, God As A Bullet, Wars Of The Future, Houseguesst, and False Alarm. Then there’s a late show with Beaten Awake, Brainbow, and Houseguest again.

September 22 – Byzantine, Demiricous, Shocking Jesus, Cadavary Spasm, A Chaotic Dream

September 23 – From 6 to 9pm there’s something called A Bossa E Nossa which ties in with Jaime’s birthday party. Then later Homegrown Hero headlines a local talent celebration including Clutterhouse, Derk Vana, Rese Jhordan, The Damnits, W.D.K., Dan Swartwout, and Barry Lanier

September 26 – Asia’s Hope, which has something to do with a skreened.com launch party. Peachcake, Less Pain Forever, Matt Beckler, Cale, and Stealing Bismarck are also here.

September 30 – battle of the bands

October 14 – Curtis Vodka show. He is a DJ from Alaska.

October 28 – battle of the bands

November 1 – something they are calling BEATLOUNGE.

November 2 – Outlook First Thursdays at High Five evidently begins here, whatever this is. The Yekrats are the featured act.

November 3 – Burn In Silence, Year Of Desolation, A Love Ends Suicide

November 4 – there’s an Urban Sound Showcase, and also the Scioto Valley rugby team has its latest social.

November 5 – Jack Rinella is here from 1-4pm

November 6 – the punk rock karaoke thing is still going on, as it is every Monday

November 10 – Fetish Under Glass from 5-9pm. I think this might be an art exhibit, not a band.

November 11 – Gear Pit runs from 3-9pm. If I’m reading this correctly, it involves the following acts: Razor Key Exit, Garblejunk, Only Flesh, Darkness Undying, CC Manded, Dark Monarchy, Mystic Syntax, Remains Of Eden.

Then at 10pm there’s something called Pornucopia staged by Students Pursuing Avant Garde, with DJ Daddy Whorebucks performing.

November 12 – A Chaotic Dream, Human Incineration

November 14 – Los Burbanks

November 16 – Searius Add

November 17 – the DownFront Beat Michigan Rally, with musical guests What We Are, Trailing Grayson, Downplay, The Andy Shaw Band, and Vinyl

November 18 – The Wild Breed Boys

November 23 – Misery Index, Swarm Of The Lotus, Intronaut, Premature Burial, Human Incineration. I’m going to take a wild guess that these acts are not performing the top 40 hits of today.

November 24 – Brazilian Night! Featuring $3 Caipiranhas all night, and special guest Magia Tropical

November 25 – Tribal Night! Once again somehow featuring $3 Caipiranhas all night, and special guest Magia Tropical. But then a Brazilian acoustic segment begins at midnight.

November 30 – Rikets, Only Flesh, and An End To All This

December 1 – DownFront Holiday Benefit Show. Proceeds go to Toys For Tots and the Franklin County 2nd Harvest Food Bank. The Damnits, Morning Round, and Exceptional Edward perform.

December 2 – another Urban Sound Showcase

December 3 – Level C has their CD release party here, even though they actually hail from Cleveland.

December 4 – Strip Tease Karaoke celebrates its one year anniversary.

December 5 – another Outlook First Thursday

December 8 – Ryan Smith, Your Favorite Assassin, Pike

December 9 – DEJAVU Latin Fusion Rhythms

December 15 – the second DownFront Holiday Benefit Show. This one has Zomo, The American Imports, and Blackcoin on the bill.

December 16 – third and final of the DownFront shows. Cardinal Hill, The Andy Shaw Band, and Downplay take the stage this time around.

December 25 – Santa Claus Karaoke!

December 29 – Magia Tropical

December 30 – Tribal Night

I guess I forget that they actually served food at this place. Then again wasn’t this a late night destination for such? Like people would go here late for 3am breakfast? In late 2008 local bar owners Skully (Skully’s) and Mike (Ravari Room) purchased the place. It was remodeled and renamed, possibly to Circus. The kitchen had closed by this point.

High Five flyer for The Evil Queens and Tigerella

Posted on by Jason McGathey — 9 Comments

Riots Of Passage

Well, like everything else, this book has taken much longer than expected. But Riots Of Passage is finally complete, and now available in both ebook and paperback form. So though it always feels tremendously awkward, I’m forcing myself to insert a little self-promotion here – although considering it documents a year of living on OSU campus, this book counts as legitimate Columbus history, and so might a little bit about its creation, too.

I finally got around to getting this in shape for publication in December 2017. The first draft was finished clear back in the fall of 1998 and the second in the summer of 2003. More than fourteen years would pass, then, before I even looked at this stuff again. Most of the delay was due to working on other projects, but any time I would think about this book, I was having a tough time mentally sorting out the length and the structure.

For eons I’ve been telling everyone that the campus years would be a trilogy (the first installment, One Hundred Virgins, was published in 2006). But I could never quite figure out a division point that felt right between two and three, so Riots Of Passage ended up being both. The most natural seeming break occurs after coming home from the New Year’s party, and that was always the plan, except I didn’t like where this meant starting off the last book. It would kind of leave the middle book as one long preamble, as just about all of the payoffs seem to happen in the last half of this finished project.

The major cuts all came with this third draft I began in 2017. That second draft from 2003 clocked in at over 900 full size (8 1/2 x 11″, that is) pages, something like 940, whereas the third one came in at exactly 500. So I wound up cutting out or condensing nearly half of the material. But even throughout this process, I was still kind of stalling on the decision whether to split this into two books or not, telling myself I would know the answer and could make that call when the draft was complete.

But the truth is, you’re never entirely certain you made the right call on anything. In this instance, it felt too short for a pair of books yet too long for just one. It helps considerably with the editing process, though, that I would say – somewhat unexpectedly – that I really don’t care about any of the personal dramas now, stuff which seemed so important at the time. This is one advantage of taking so long to put something together, I suppose. In some instances entire people got the axe, along with subplots which dragged on for a month. The only consideration was whether or not it seemed essential to this central story, and if not, it got the heave ho.

Some of the decisions were pure pacing ones. In the beginning and the end especially, I was going for more of a breezy clip, therefore condensing was unavoidable. This meant that often highly interesting occasions were reduced to single sentences, or maybe even deleted altogether. In two instances I can think of, complete paragraphs which were among my top five favorites, I had to conclude didn’t fit, however painfully, and got rid of them. It sucks, but you can always console yourself with the knowledge that they might find use in other projects down the road.

These decisions, though, make you realize that you can’t really term anything the “definitive” history of an era or a subject. This is just one minuscule slice of history from that time and place. For a while, and this was true of the first book as well, this whole notion of cutting out people completely was bothering me. It feels like you’re trying to alter history based on personal preferences. Except one day I had an epiphany of sorts – I happened to be reading a Civil War book at the time, though it could have been anything – that, you know, they couldn’t possibly mention every single soldier who fought in a war, in the course of the narrative. Attempting to shoehorn in every name even if you have nothing interesting to say would make it clunky and unreadable. This doesn’t make it untrue, or mean that you are attempting to alter history.

One great example of this would occur near the end of this third draft, when I realized that an extremely entertaining cook we worked with at Damon’s hadn’t been mentioned at all. His name just hadn’t come up in any of my writings. Some of his specific episodes I had in my head the whole time, and kept thinking they were going to crop up at some point – after this many years, it’s hard to remember what you included and what you left out of a previous draft – but they never did. Instead of backtracking, though, and attempting to figure out where they belonged, I took this as a sign that these detours probably weren’t needed. And nothing personal against the guy, they just weren’t essential to these particular chapters.

Other times the opposite policy applies, where you figure, you know, I’ve got fifteen scenes at Woody’s in here, or whatever, and these are the ones which felt most crucial. There’s no reason to mention every trip you made to the bar for a solid year. In this sense, some of the lengthier scenes were easier to cut out entirely, or categories where I was able to make some kind of broad editorial decision – so for the most part, major concerts, sporting events, and movies attended were easily gotten rid of. Writing sex scenes, too, has always been awkward, and I couldn’t imagine anyone wanted to read about these icky details either.

So it is that, paradoxically, smaller decisions somehow become the most agonizing. These open up philosophical angles that are often unexpected and fascinating. Though this admission might seem monstrous, I can honestly say that while some of the things I did in these pages should bother me, none of it does. Instead what proves cringe inducing is to look back upon what music you were listening to, the dumb stuff you were talking about, and your inane sense of humor at the time.

Somehow we have all grown accustomed to the notion that our clothing and hair choices of the past were usually questionable, and this we are okay with, dismissing them with wry, morbid humor as a fitting commentary on those hilarious times. Other details prove trickier to navigate, however, and among these I would count a) things you no longer find funny, as well as b) things you no longer believe, and c) things you said, but turned out to not be true.

To leave out these sorts of things, you are then wrestling with the notion that you’re trying to make yourself and your friends seem smoother than you actually were at the time. But I think our various personalities are well established and accurate. Omitting some of the goofier, poorly aged wisecracks or whatever isn’t distorting anything. Also, to include them produces the thought, why would I intentionally write a bad book? Sometimes, particularly with point B up above, you can maybe weave around this by explaining, “here’s what I thought at the time, but I now believe this.” Unless this insight actually occurred during the period in question, though, this is also technically assigning yourself a wisdom you didn’t have.

Thornier still are questions of how you’re going to handle behavior and/or remarks which let’s just say haven’t aged so well, yet they are important if you want to be truthful about these times. You can’t just delete them and pretend they never happened…even though including such makes it seem as though you’re endorsing them. I think you just have to try and keep yourself in the mindset of that time frame as much as possible. It always bugs me when you’re watching something that’s supposedly set in an earlier era, but they’re using slang and catchphrases which didn’t exist back then. I tried to avoid that as much as possible, true, but also more importantly to avoid putting a current spin on these old situations. It’s probably not entirely possible, but I really don’t want to ascribe what I (or anyone else) thinks about these episodes now, only what we actually thought about them back then.

Even so, of course, you end up agonizing over specific words. Some of these sentences remain intact as-is from the late 90s, but there are others, I can tell you, I was still tinkering around with yesterday. Some were bugging me as I went to sleep last night. But at some point you have to tell yourself, good enough. Let it go.

But what really has you in knots most of all, is how you say anything negative whatsoever about your friends. You’re trying to write your interpretation of events, which everyone might not agree with. You don’t want to be unnecessarily mean, but at the same time, if you’re going to excise every negative, then it’s whitewashed and toothless and no longer accurate. It’s easy to fall down additional rabbit holes from there and begin thinking, hey, maybe I’ll just leave in unflattering comments if the person in question was a jerk to me, and on the flipside, delete everything less positive if they were cool. Of course, once you start rationalizing like this, you are doomed. Maybe it’s a tie breaker, if someone is in your good graces, determining how hard you try to paint them favorably, but you cannot just start wiping out every unkind comment about your friends.

Basically I think you just have to ask yourself, is this fair? And is this a necessary reference, or can I cut it out? Have I said this as tactfully as I can manage? It does help that, by this point, hopefully everyone understands this stuff falls in the good natured ribbing department, anyway – as mentioned earlier, I don’t actually “care” about this material on a personal level after this many years, none of it. The only question is if it’s important to this book, this little slice of history I’m covering.

In many of these cases, it’s often an accidental blessing to have not captured a ton of concrete information. Sometimes I am being deliberately vague for dramatic purposes within the structure of the book, other times as some kind of strategic decision I’ve stumbled onto in the real world. But far more common are the instances where I just don’t have the details at this point. You can’t exactly Wikipedia who was at some campus keg party, or what was said at the Out-R-Inn on such and such night from 1998. Work schedules are for the most part toast or would never be made available to you, especially if canned from a place, and you can’t trust memory all that well after this many years.

One thing you may notice is that I do have slightly greater detail as the book progresses. This actually did occur to me at the time, and was an unintended benefit of buying a computer about halfway through this epoch. The whole mindset for acquiring one was that it would help me type up my first novel, yet it would soon turn out that detail and speed in future projects like this were of far greater importance. I was doing an okay job handwriting various facts in my journal, what we did and where we went on such and such day. It helped, too, that I had a job – waiting tables – where standing around scribbling things into a tiny notepad was totally normal. I just often wasn’t writing what they might have expected. But the level of detail is missing beyond this, until able to type it up and capture it quickly with a decent word processing program. And the biggie here is actual quotes, real life soundbites from people, which are somewhat lacking early on.

So if I don’t really care about any of these piddly dramas at this point, beyond their structural purpose in my history, what I do find fascinating now is specific details about anything whatsoever from the distant past. Things said, yes, but also prices, menu items, songs on a band’s set list. Which business existed at a certain address. It does make me lament my focus and choices at times, that I hadn’t concentrated more in certain areas and less in others, but there’s really nothing you can do about that.

Ultimately, this is what a book like this ends up being about: the city itself. Although by the nature of this project forced to insert myself into the middle (fun fact: I did try writing this campus period as a novel with invented character names at one point, many years ago. It didn’t work), it helps considerably to recognize that I am not the story. These experiences on the personal level are for the most part anonymous and commonplace. Though some of this weird behavior I guess is sort of amusing in spots, for the most part, I’m just melting into the background – and that’s exactly as it should be. So while it’s easy for all of us to trick ourselves into thinking, which we probably all have at times, “wow, I’m kinda like the Forrest Gump of this scene or something, all this wild stuff seems to happen when I’m around!” that’s not really how it is at all. It’s more accurate to realize, well, I was present for 100% of the stuff I was present for. That’s why it seems amazing. But there were a million equally crazy things happening all over the place, which I missed. And this swirl of activity, this flood of information and colliding personalities, mixed in with the era and the locale itself, this is really what all such stories are about.

In the end, all you can really control is making a historical record as accurate as possible. Try to make it match what that period felt like as best as you are able to, and move on. The first time around, with One Hundred Virgins, this manifested itself in me thinking I wanted to get the timing right on a typical day. As I was working on that project, it’s true that there were almost no hard decisions whatsoever, as the pacing and flow and questions about which scenes to include almost seemed to be snapping themselves into place, in a way that hasn’t happened before or since with anything I’ve written. But the one area I made a determined effort to focus upon then was to not include only the fireworks, to deliberately insert some boring stretches because this was more realistic. I do regret some of the florid language used in that book – to read some passages now, even I have no clue what I was trying to say there – but otherwise think it accurately captured, you know, that we weren’t partying nonstop, that there were nights I’d sit at the kitchen table alone for hours with the radio and a crossword puzzle.

The period covered in this second volume, however, is completely different. There is much less information about what else is going on around the city, because our lives have gotten more action packed, and I’m also not exactly sitting around reading article after article about Angsto The Clown or whatever, as I had been in our earlier days. Here I think the length of the book is actually more beneficial and accurate, and if I’ve decided to focus less this time around on making every sentence as artfully complex as possible, I do believe that some situational confusion serves it well, because this is how it was to live it. Therefore if you think it’s a bit brain scrambling that there are five or six Carries in this book and most of them have dark hair but no last name, are often explained away as a coworker, well, trust me, this neatly matches our experience. If sometimes you can’t quite decipher what happened or what’s really going on, yeah…welcome to the club.

Even so, I’ve never been nearly this nervous about anything else I’ve written. There are conversations I’ve successfully avoided having for over twenty years now and am dreading to some degree, once a couple of these episodes are revealed. The reception itself otherwise seems almost not nearly as important – as any of you other writers out there know, though you feel compelled to crank this stuff out for some reason, there are always conflicting emotions about it anyway. Am I hoping that nobody reads it? Of course not. Am I hoping that people do read it? I think so…yet it’s still kind of a terrifying prospect to actually sit around and ponder. I mostly try to block out that thought, too.

Original binder for "Similar Shapes" by Jason McGathey — That last “S” fell off: original cover for “Similar Shapes” as it looks now.

Regarding the title, and the picture above, it’s true that I’ve been wrestling off and on with these names for over two decades. At one point, I intended to call that first book Similar Shapes. There are still times I wish I had. But somewhere along the line that name began to seem too generic to me, and I also became enthralled with this idea, based around this running joke that Robert Smith (from The Cure, not the legendary OSU running back) always had, whenever asked about the title of their next album: he would say One Million Virgins, though they never wound up calling any of them that. When still intending this as a trilogy, I planned to run with that concept in tying them all together, starting with Hundred and then Thousand, finally Million.

Though loosely based upon discussions we were actually having at the time, this numbering pattern eventually lost its luster. True, I could always pull an Agatha Christie and rename that first book. But really, I think I’m saving Similar Shapes for a day down the road, when I might decide to combine these two projects and issue them as one. Half the time I think that will probably happen at some point. It actually makes the most sense of all, and kind of comes full circle to that maroon binder full of pages.

Anyway, if you’re really worked up into a mad fervor and can’t wait to get your claws into a copy, as I mentioned, the Kindle version is on promotion now on Amazon. So here is the link for that:

Riots Of Passage

And the paperback version is now available too! I would recommend the Barnes and Noble version most of all. It’s $6 cheaper than Amazon’s paperback, yet of much higher quality. Amazon busts your chops about making sure every file is just so, then it comes out kind of blurry and misaligned anyway. So here’s the link to the B&N paperback:

Riots Of Passage paperback

Other options abound, too, though I won’t clutter up the page posting every link here. Suffice to say it’s available wherever you would expect. My favorite though is Smashwords, a nifty little author-friendly operation that gives you multiple options for downloading:

Riots Of Passage on Smashwords

By the way, if you’re interested in reviewing this book, I can definitely be persuaded to send you a free copy in pretty much any form. Either leave a comment below, or email me (jasonmcgatheywriter@gmail.com), or else you can always send a message/text/call me, et cetera of course if we happen to be friends already.

Let me know if you spot any errors, of course. I already have a file going with a couple of them, though at this point I guess they will have to wait for the inevitable revised edition. As always, thanks for reading this or anything else that pops into my head. It still seems amazing to me that anyone would do so, and I hope to never lose sight of that.

Posted on by Jason McGathey — Leave a comment

Out-R-Inn

It takes us a lot longer to discover Out-R-Inn than it ever rightly should. Located somewhat slightly out of the familiar campus loop, on Frambes, which may explain why none of us have ever been here. A house which has been converted to a bar at some point, with a jagged stone wall in front guarding this elevated patio, a patio that in turn lords over the sidewalk. They’ve got a doorman checking I.D., always a positive sign that things are happening enough to bother, and we cross that threshold in turn. Upon first entering, our initial impression is that this place appears tiny, with a scuffed wooden bar and stools, not a ton of breathing space in this first room. They are blasting tunes from a CD player behind the bar, for which the drink slingers also choose the discs, although the most curious aspect about this arrangement is that the music is louder out on the sidewalk than it is in here.

We order a beer at the bar and walk toward the back, though, and it’s only in so doing that the full breadth of this operation reveals itself to us. Now, the space looms like an optical illusion in the other direction, where you’re struggling to picture how it’s this much bigger on the inside than would appear possible on the outside. There’s a side room, an upstairs, plus this gigantic back patio with another bar at one end. Brick arches which look like they’ve been around since the 1800s, in fact brick and wood everywhere, mostly the latter. Hardwood floors which are polished in some spots, mostly not, and this wooden corridor for darts, some low riding wooden picnic tables on the back patio, many a shiny wooden wall inside. The smallest stage known to man in one interior corner, but then also, curiously enough, basketball hoops in another behind the place. Television screens everywhere, as it considers itself somewhat of a sports bar, and some of these weird walls that double as windows, these wooden flaps that open whenever the weather is nice.

If there’s one downfall to this bar, it’s that there are way too many guys and not enough girls. Then again, you might say that about pretty much anywhere, given the wrong night. And there is enough visual candy to hold our attention, anyway. We entertain ourselves for the duration of the first beer, pretty much, watching this chubby blonde in a short skirt shoot pool, hoping for a panty shot. Then get bored, order a second round – Damon talks me into trying Moosehead, which isn’t bad – for a voyage onto the patio. They’ve got a shelf behind the bar, just below the monstrous CD rack, with every variety imaginable, and price tags hanging off of each, in a novel twist, which leads to such experimentation. The four of us have made a pact to drink nothing but imports while here, no American swill allowed.

It’s out on the patio that we make our first unexpected encounter, bumping into Frank Wiseman and his trusty sidekick Lauren. These two are hunched before drinks, alone, at one of the picnic tables, a quaint if somewhat bizarre tete-a-tete. He’s telling me he bartends at the Claremont steak house downtown now, and says I should stop in sometime for a drink. In addition to getting canned at our restaurant, he says he also quit Bowties, and is working solely down there at the moment. As for her, though in theory her friends, the other clubhouse bitches continue to make smirking wisecracks about her “drug problem” as they complain about her table thievery – and you would have to say these rumors are beginning to bear visible fruit. She’s looking a little thinned out and pasty these days, actually quite a bit so.

“Ugh. She’s not looking too hot these days,” I remark, after we leave them.

“It’s funny you say that,” Damon chuckles, as we excuse ourselves from that awkward private conference, “I was just thinking that. The first time I met them, I thought, what the hell’s she doing with him? Now I would say it’s the other way around.”

He has no sooner completed this thought before a second acquaintance comes bounding over, right when we step back inside. Carmen, the really cute, curly haired brunette he knows from school, seems delightfully surprised to see him here, and we stand talking to her, Damon most of all, naturally, for quite some time. He says she’s got a cool personality, and this observation seems to hold water in my limited interactions with her. She does have a tendency to lean in extremely close when speaking to you, which could be either intimidating or a turn on – mostly the latter, once you get to know her. It helps that she has a pretty face and a curvaceous body.

She’s here with friends, and returns to them as we head up to inspect the second floor. They have an actual jukebox located at the top of the stairs, and three pool tables. Also, some windows affording a terrific view of the surrounding terrain, both restrooms for some curious reason, and a curved exterior stairwell which leads out to that side basketball court.

We are among the few inquisitive souls actively hanging out up here, thus are able to immediately claim both a pool table and the jukebox. Alan puts some quarters into the juke and plays five or six tunes, with me right behind him. Then Paul, who almost never does this, saunters over to shell out for some songs.

“Watch, he’s gonna play Back In Black next,” Alan jokes to me in a whisper, and then we bust out laughing as this is exactly what happens. Followed by You Shook Me All Night Long.

Still, as predictable as he can be on many fronts, obsessed to no end when the rare subject appeals to him, Paul is still nonetheless capable of blowing your mind with the unexpected revelation now and then, more so than these other two friends. We’ve all got secrets, of course – you wouldn’t be human otherwise. But beyond those, speaking just about our basic personalities, I feel like you’re pretty much going to hear everything interesting that happened to Damon in the course of a day, unless he has a strongly compelling reason not to reveal it, and he will make these tales mighty hilarious in so doing. That Alan probably hews closer to me at the other extreme, as we’re more selective in relating our stories – either because these are the only ones which occurred to us, or we don’t want to bore people, or it’s just too much work – while Paul’s off to the side somewhere from all of these viewpoints. It’s as though he often considers admitting to anything other than the canonical obsessions as diminishing those obsessions. So while we’re chortling over the AC/DC, he seems undisturbed, and possibly not even registering this, raving about this album for the thousandth time…but then abruptly switches gears, when a Soundgarden song airs, says he used to be in a band that played Jesus Christ Pose and he always thought his was a killer cut. I’m floored, and in a way can’t imagine Damon or Alan would ever tell me anything more shocking than this.

It feels like one of these strange nights, though, where everyone’s in a somewhat giddy mood for no concrete reason. I’m not the only one gripped by this sensation that something interesting is bound to happen tonight – which of course often winds up being a self-fulfilling prophecy, as such good cheer and optimism makes things happen on its own. Even as I’m just about out of money and cut myself off following this third round, and Kathleen either passed out early or blew me off, nothing can diminish the potential of this still young night. Alan talks me into drinking a Beck’s Dark, same as him, even though they screw up and give him a regular Beck’s. Damon and Paul beat the two of us in both pool games, somehow, even though Radick’s easily the worst of us, and rarely plays. Then we decide to head down the sidewalk, in favor of Que Tal.

II.

Bob Gil, an OSU graduate, purchased the Out-R-Inn in the early 1980s. At the time the place was struggling to turn a profit, but he soon turned it into a money-making success. For unknown reasons, despite owning a couple thriving businesses around town, in the early 1990s, he decides to bring in some buddy from his softball league, Marty McNamee, as co-owner on all his enterprises. This is a decision he will presumably come to regret, however, as in September of 1994, Gil will wind up dead, courtesy of a single gunshot wound to the head – and McNamee himself has to be considered the prime person of interest in this still unsolved case. He has a profile in Business First, oddly enough, on the exact same day he goes missing. His van is discovered September 28 and his body October 1.

For much more on this incredibly strange odyssey, I would recommend checking out the always excellent coverage on that episode of True Crime Garage. In the wake of Bob’s death, though, his dad will actually inherit a chunk of these businesses. Then Marty buys him out (their holdings also include the sports bar Pockets on Kenny Road), in 1995, shortly before running into a whole heap of legal trouble himself, one which will conclude with a 36 month prison sentence.

As for us, we will return to Out-R-Inn often, both for the remainder of our campus years and well beyond. It’s the rare kind of establishment where you’re likely to find a bunch of college students but also a sizable middle aged or older crowd, who feel right at home here. Easily the campus establishment I’ve visited most since moving out of the university area, where for example, when one of my aunts and a cousin came to town for a visit, this immediately leapt to mind as our best option. Our go-to choice before and after concerts at the Newport…but also a place I went to alone, one night, after fighting with Jill, while the rest of my friends went to a show at the Newport. After which, but of course, the friends were kind enough to join me.

In the name of full disclosure, I have to admit the night this really cute and curvaceous brunette barmaid decided she was too hot, and to serve drinks in just her bra, this was reason enough alone to return for many, many months. Even if, as Closing Time is playing from their boombox near the end of the night, and Alan mouths the words, the whole I know who I want to take me home line, jabbing an insistent finger in her direction as she slings drinks, he is not exactly successful in these romantic efforts. I know we will never forget that night, and hope to never forget about checking into this so-called inn, either, every now and then.

To see it a couple of decades later, in 2019, not a whole lot has visibly changed. Almost all of the updates seem to be music related, which is a fitting commentary on our modern era. The tunes aren’t nearly as loud when approaching the building, and once inside, you will immediately observe that the racks of compact discs behind the bar are gone. Upstairs, the juke box has been yanked, but otherwise it’s like stepping into a time warp.

This is my first visit since I think 2006, so there are plenty other details I had forgotten about, but am pretty sure were always in place here. Like nearly every square inch of the wood and brick walls being covered with signatures up on this second floor, and the men’s room with the giant piss trough and just one toilet stall otherwise. Downstairs again, I am confronted with the unfortunate sight of just six draft taps, most of them offering cheap domestics. Although it’s easy to forget this is a college campus, and they’re just giving the masses what they want.

McNamee sold the place somewhere around 2005-ish, as he was filing for bankruptcy…although this would soon turn into a tax fraud/money laundering case against him. According to a September 11, 2007 article by Columbus Business First, McNamee was sentenced to three years of prison, in addition to some hefty restitution to the tune of about half a million dollars. This had something to do with, in part, staging a flood for insurance money (not here, but at this residence). A federal grand jury convenes in D.C. and convicts him with a slew of charges, including money laundering, tax fraud, conspiracy, mail fraud, cash skimming, a false insurance claim, and fraudulent tax returns.

Posted on by Jason McGathey — Leave a comment

Not Al’s Rockers

Hunting down the exact coordinates for this place has been one of the more amusing and unexpectedly frustrating challenges of late. The only specific online reference I’ve been able to find, after months of searching, and believing I hit the jackpot with locating a late 90s campus bar directory at last…listed its address as “corner of 10th and High.” And yet even that isn’t quite correct, because it actually sat across the street from where 10th dead-ended into High.

Located near the end of the line, where campus attractions begin to steadily thin south of 9th, it’s a live music dive bar in every sense of both extremes. Live music a surprisingly difficult find at the time, the muted thud oozing through its pores is like a siren song to us the first occasion where we pass this place. Three dollars at the door and we’re ushered inside, privy to the Local Color experience.

A bohemian outfit gracing the minuscule stage, Local Color somehow cram a small army upon its meager surface. Just left of the entrance, amidst a sea of swirling red and green pinspots that would make Pink Floyd jealous, the band is flailing away, half a dozen strong. Fittingly, these dislocated hippies are slithering through Floyd’s seldom heard gem Fearless like ripples on a pond, and as we stumble our way past the queued throng beside the ladies room door, our eyes never leave the stage.

For a small time local act, it’s immediately apparent these cats have their ducks in a row. More than the half assed combos gearing up at Ruby Tuesday each night, though for all I know Local Color plays there too. It would certainly seem their ideal locale, sticking, as they do, to golden 60s nuggets by the Dead and Country Joe. Normally this music drives us bonkers, but they pull it off with such splendid grace, often bettering the originals, that we’re hopelessly drawn into their hazy web.

Tight and musically competent, I feel they could do with a slimmer roster than that of the lead guitarist, the singer who strums an acoustic, the bass player, the saxophonist who picks up a rhythm axe when not blowing his horn, the keyboardist and the drummer, but whatever the particulars they impress. Their craggy faces, impenetrable and unreadable behind tinted glasses and facial hair, stake wordless claims upon the years these songs cover. Ponytails and jeans and faded tee shirts worn like badges of honor, war medals, further strengthening their unspoken bond with the crowd.

As for the crowd, words can never do this mob justice. Body odor hanging in a ripe fog, whether male or female those wearing dreadlocks and overalls prevail in equal proportions. These chicks are by no means averse to sporting rampant armpit hair, nor are the guys opposed to donning what I’m guessing to be potato sacks with holes cut out for the arms and head.

“Look at the way they dance!” Damon howls, pinpointing a handful of specimens with the precision of those swirling red and green lights.

Truly a sight to behold, this jig. Pervasive enough to make us wonder whether someone at the door is passing out booklets detailing this single particular maneuver, and we’ve failed to pick one up. Throughout the bar everyone else except us is operating under the same mysterious spell, dancing in a like manner. Arms raised slightly, elbows bent, they shimmer their bodies up and down, swaying side to side, with an occasional three hundred and sixty degree turn thrown in for good measure. When inspiration strikes they elevate their arms and hold them there, though only as high as their heads. Then it’s back to the same routine.

Uncomfortable, we slide onto the only seating we can find, at a picnic table located near the sound booth. Situated in the center of the bar, it affords an enviable view of Not Al’s Rockers, in every direction, confirming our initial suspicions that this is in fact the only piece of furniture in the house. Aside from the bar, along one wall, and its few token stools, Not Al’s unfurls as one large concrete slab, whereby its occupants either dance or stand along the rear wall. Making no effort to conceal their continuous daisy chain of joints, those situated furthest from the stage lean against the wall with giant dopey grins, suffusing the room in that sharp aroma just a notch below the foul armpit smell.

Together, these elements lend the occasion more the feel of an outdoor festival than a Monday night at some run of the mill tavern. We stick out here like the proverbial bulls in a china shop, but care not the least, and in fact find this unfamiliarity, the newness of a community such as this, of unmitigated interest. Wholly fascinating, this submersion into their hippie subculture, if only for one night.

Local Color finishes Shakedown Street, and we respond with modest hand claps, with respectable hollers. But here, these cliched responses stand out like an animal activist’s paint splashed against a fur coat. They have the clapping thing down, but we’re not about to hear a woo! or an oh yeah! anytime soon, we’ll perish before someone sets forth the first whistle. Instead of what we’ve come to characterize as the standard classic rock response, these peculiar beasts toss off wild kingdom shrieks, and what might be snatches of bird song.

“What was that, a mating call?” Alan jokes, just before hooting like an owl.

But as we’re sitting on the picnic table, the fever and an all purpose weariness are crushing me, I can barely kept my head aloft. My left hand accidentally grazes someone else’s beer bottle and sends it spilling out all over the table, onto the floor, but the goodwill vibe of the place is such that the guy isn’t the least bit angry. Such that I would hand him a twenty, tell him to buy himself another drink, on me.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Damon gasps, eyes wide.

But the guy has a face I feel I can trust and sure enough, he returns with my change, thanks me. No problem, brother. Maybe these hippies aren’t really our scene but their laidback kindness sure beats the snooty bitches we’ve encountered to date at those other clubs, and the assholes surrounding them.

1998

The only occasions where we ever seem to make it to this place are on Mondays, to witness Local Color. Even so, a year will separate visits, before Damon and I finally get around to checking them out again.

We pay our three dollar cover in exchange for a hand stamp, and enter this no frills, warehouse looking place with the concrete floor. It’s an aesthetic so rustic and unadorned that it’s almost come back around full circle to being trendy again. Almost. Throngs of long haired, shabbily clad, often odorific youngsters fill the room, with an older variation of the same occupying the makeshift stage over our shoulder, along the street facing wall. And “stage” is a loose term, for like many bars of this caliber, it represents only a cleared off corner where bands are able to play.

Immediately, a few slight differences between previous visits here and our current one become obvious. For one, the crowd is more normal, or should I say offers more babes while at the same time boasting proportionally less girls with hairy armpits. And yet as far as the band is concerned, Local Color has almost moved in the opposite direction, not quite the same slick classic rock outfit we remember.

For starters, they appear less professional than the competent, laidback cats we last saw onstage a year prior. Their performance is a tad bit sloppier, while the light show, which had bowled us over back then, how impressive it was for a bar band playing covers to possess such a rig, this has been scaled back to a cut rate version of its former self, featuring only the bare essentials now.

But none of these developments can quite match the impact of their new drummer, a younger kid going way too far overboard trying to make his presence felt, or else in an effort to pump up this somewhat moribund crowd.

“COME ON PEOPLE!” he shouts into a microphone while standing up in between songs, “I WANNA HEAR YOU SING!”

“CLAP YOUR HANDS PEOPLE!”

“MAKE SOME NOISE!”

After the latest of these ceaseless entreaties, I quip to Damon, “Jesus, if I wanted to watch Lars Ulrich, I’d go see Metallica.”

“No shit, man!” he agrees with a laugh.

Still, even a cheesy, too flashy and incongruous skins basher isn’t enough to spoil a basically solid boomer rock combo. They break out their Traffic tunes, more than a treasure chest’s worth of Dead, the expected Santana, even one old early Floyd obscurity. All in all, not a bad show and certainly a reasonable entertainment option given the relatively low door charge – though it is strange that, considering all the hippies I work with if not knowing from elsewhere, Joel’s neighbor Buddy is the only familiar face I bump into here all night. Especially when considering that Ruby’s for example boasts a similar vibe and cribs many of the same bands, though serving them up to smaller crowds, yet I can’t recall the last time I stepped in there without recognizing some of the clientele.

Inspired by this trip down memory lane, we soon risk another, this time with the girls Damon and I are seeing, Shannon and Jamie respectively, and the latter’s burned out hippie aunt, Lynn. We spend a good fifteen to twenty minutes in getting there and our girls, surprisingly, don’t seem too bothered by the walk. After forking over the small, apparently inflation proof cover charge, we gain entry and stand not too much further inside the door, directly right of the stage and near the restrooms.

No sooner have we arrived, and here comes Carrie and Sara drifting through the front doors, too, along with about three other friends. Carrie is an extremely popular name for girls our age, and this is seriously maybe one of five we’ve hung out with – or more – in our year plus of living here. This Carrie would be, of course, that dark haired, plain looking girl Damon had met at Maxwell’s one night last spring, Sara her taller and considerably better looking brunette friend. They’d been freshman then, are sophomores now, and we haven’t seen them since Carrie’s short lived attempts at wooing Damon had ended. So naturally fate has it that she reappears on a night when his rarely visiting girlfriend comes out to a campus club.

Carrie stands and talks to Damon for quite some time, wearing the camouflage jacket like always, her face still riddled with acne and pock marks, black hair shoulder length and kind of greasy looking. Still no beauty, but she’s always been a cool one to party with, and the same goes for Sara. Speaking of Sara, as Carrie’s yapping Damon’s ear off and Shannon’s looking either angry or bored, Sara spends a good twenty minutes in the restroom, having darted inside there immediately following their entry.

She emerges, and right away it’s obvious the girl’s fucked up on something. Normally, you can’t get two words out of her, but now she suddenly wants to converse with both of us at a breakneck clip herself. Ordinarily, Sara’s cool, almost too cool, low key and laid back, but at this mysterious moment she’s bubblier than a bottle of soap.

“How you doing?” I question.

“Oh, good, good! How you guys been! It’s been so long since we’ve seen you!”

“Are you okay?” Damon asks, laughing.

“Yeah! Why?”

“Well, you were in that bathroom for quite a while, I thought maybe you were sick or something.”

“Oh no, no! I’m fine!” she insists.

Carrie and Sara eventually forge onward, toward the back of Not Al’s swelling, crowded interior. Damon can tell Shannon isn’t enjoying herself, now – these matters are a continual juggling act – and so by mutual consensus it’s agreed upon that we should leave, after not even sticking around for one full set, not even long enough to form any impressions of the band tonight. As far as I can recall, this is the last time we will see Local Color perform live, and our final visit to Not Al’s Rockers as well. This hippie oasis won’t last too much longer, and might not even survive the 1990s.

Posted on by Jason McGathey — Leave a comment

Alvin Choate

Local musician Alvin Choate is possibly my favorite recent discovery. As a one man wrecking crew banging out these really cool compositions, Alvin specializes in what you might call modern jazz, although there are strains of blues, rock, funk and soul all over the place. While he does play the drums and some bass guitar on these tracks, everything else is composed courtesy of a Yamaha keyboard, every note of it captured on some home studio digital recording software.

Recently I did reach out to Alvin to find out a little bit more about his musical journey. He began playing drums at any early age, with one of his initial outfits being a funk band down in Bluefield, WV. As an adult he wound up in Columbus, a conscious decision on his part to develop a larger audience. For the most part this gamble has paid off, as he continues to attract fans and get his name out there as a songwriter and producer. Personally I feel like listening to this stuff gives you a bit of a master’s class in composition, as, while played with a great deal of skill, none of it involves a flurry of notes, really. This allows the music to breathe and to resonate, and as a result you can kind of hear the different pieces of this machinery working together. If you’re listening closely I think it’s tremendously insightful stuff as far as tempo, changes, and layering are all concerned.

But of course, none of that would matter if the songs weren’t highly listenable. Responding to my email almost immediately, Alvin sent me a ton of tracks to listen to, and every bit of it had a great beat and fantastic melodies. In late 2018 he issued the album Special Delivery, which even features a few impressive vocal tracks:

From that set, Time is probably my favorite track, and is one of those aforementioned vocal offerings. Prior to this release I had assumed he wasn’t a singer, but am pleasantly surprised to discover he has a smooth, soulful voice. And dating back even earlier from Special Delivery, he does have one other full-length release, Diamond in the Night, which compiles a number of his previous tracks.

R.A.C.H.E.T.T. is my top pick from that album, at least at the moment. Strutting out of the gate with one of the funkiest intros heard in many a year, the introduction of a cowbell somehow lends an altogether different dimension to the groove – and this is before the wash of keyboards even kicks in:

Meanwhile, Back In The Groove is so smooth I tend to doubt he ever said groove to begin with. Over top of a funky, vaguely tropical bass line, Alvin solos in a few different directions, though always returning to the central melody for a spell.

And then as if to demonstrate his ability to bring it down a notch, there’s The Meaning Of Love, with its dreamy swirl of keys and a sort of muted trumpet sound. This one I would consider a prime example of how throwing on his tracks can really get your imagination working overtime, conjuring up vivid landscapes with every listen.

Trainwreck gets off to a rollicking start, one that wouldn’t seem out of place in a classic rock arena show. You almost expect some distorted riffage to blow a hole in your eardrums any second now, and for someone to shriek “hello, Columbus!” above the din. But as always Alvin takes unexpected detours with the material, right about the time those handclaps kick in.

So this is an overview of some of the different flavors to be found on Diamond in the Night. Many more await the intrepid listener, not to mention bloggers who wish to write about them when a little less exhausted. When energy permits I hope to sit down with Alvin at some point in the near future, or at least get him on the telephone, and pick his brain in depth on this material and his life in music. Until then – and beyond, of course – I would say check out these tracks, as there’s bound to be a little bit of something for any fan of the C-bus music scene.

Tag: Columbus Ohio

High 5

Year 2000 Events Calendar:

Year 2001 Events Calendar

Year 2006 Events Calendar

April 17

Like this:

Riots Of Passage

Like this:

Out-R-Inn

II.

Like this:

Not Al’s Rockers

1998

Like this:

Alvin Choate

Like this:

Listen to the LLTC playlist on Apple Music! Just click this image below:

Explore by Region:

Downtown Columbus - tap region/street to explore:

Hilliard (click map image):

OSU Campus (click on region):

Short North (click map image):

Follow my LLTC social media accounts, too! Just click icons:

Year 2000 Events Calendar:

Year 2001 Events Calendar

Year 2006 Events Calendar

April 17

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

II.

Share this:

Like this:

1998

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Listen to the LLTC playlist on Apple Music! Just click this image below:

Explore by Region:

Downtown Columbus - tap region/street to explore:

Hilliard (click map image):

OSU Campus (click on region):

Short North (click map image):

Follow my LLTC social media accounts, too! Just click icons: