I.
Little Brother’s, the brainchild of former Stache’s owner Dan Dougan, opened its doors in the spring of 1997. When the bar and live music oasis hosts its opening celebration on May 25 of that year, R.L. Burnside is the headlining act, and they don’t yet have a license to sell booze. This is a great metaphor for how this establishment hit the ground running, and almost immediately became one of our city’s top venues.
Though visiting the club a couple of times to view local acts, first and foremost Superstar Rookie, my first so-called “national” show glimpsed here would occur when Swervedriver careens into town, in June of 1998. Having seen the English shoegaze-y type group one other time, they really impressed me, and thus this contest at Magnolia Thunderpussy catches my eye, the previous week. They have this box out by the door offering a pair of free tickets to whichever name is drawn. While it seems likely they drew more than one name, or possibly dispensed free tickets to every name, I’m not complaining or asking questions when Magnolia’s calls to say I won, just a few hours before the show.
One of my roommates, Alan, happens to be home from work, and agrees to go with me. He’s never heard of the band but is generally up for live music in any form. In the hours leading up to it, I call some of the usual suspects, too, friends I know who seem good candidates for attendance, to gauge whether anybody else is going. At every instance, an answering machine awaits me at the other end, so I never speak to anyone…but it doesn’t matter, as we bump into every one of these souls down at the show anyway.
As had been the case five years ago, that night we witnessed these guys opening for the Smashing Pumpkins, this occasion is fast turning into a high school reunion of sorts. It’s not an overstatement at all to suggest that previous show had been a real eye opener for many of us, a somewhat mind blowing experience. That night is a major reason many of us are here and creeps into the conversation repeatedly this time around.
After parking next to the club, in their uneven gravel lot, we round the corner and immediately run into Jeremy Wendling, who is sitting on the sidewalk in front of the place with Angie Stearns, the two of them reclining against the giant off-white bricks of its exterior. Next up, Dave Kemp, who is merrily drunk, it would seem, ambles over to shake our hand. Then I give my name to the doorman, and we gain admission, which is when we realize that something like half of this wall-to-wall crowd must be familiar to us.
Some of this is so surreal we’re struggling to make sense of it. Travis is hanging out inside the door, which is probably the most expected development thus far, but we spot Steve Simmers meandering through the crowd nearby, having just purchased a beer, and this inspires us to drift over and do the same. Here I nearly crash into a former busboy at the restaurant I too recently left, the Damon’s on Olentangy, Dave Warnock, seated at the bar. He sort of resembled another Dave, the main Foo Fighter Grohl, when both were sporting greasy long black hair. But now that Warnock’s cut it, he curiously does not. Weirder still, Warnock’s not just sitting next to but somehow knows another guy from our old high school, Greg Dillinger, and keeps namechecking a bunch of other Mansfield area people in attendance, asking if I know so-and-so, even though he is not from our region. Somehow none of this ever came up when we were working together.
“Hey, you’re friends with Keisha, aren’t you?” this voice calls out from behind me, and it’s that Jeff guy Alan knows from the Guard. Alan happens to be over in the near distance, talking to some other people, and I point him out to Jeff. Then we intercept Travis again in the middle of the crowd, and he informs us Jon Weirick’s up near the stage with a ton of other people we know, which is where we head next.
Spoon is the opening act, an indie band who’ve just signed a major label deal yet not really gained much of a foothold nationally. At the time of this show, I am also not that familiar with them, but will never become a fan even when hearing more of their music over the years. In fairness to the group on this night, however, I must admit to not really paying attention, too busy chatting with these random encounters to properly do so. As it so happens, they will soon become the far more popular of these two bands, and not only their set list but audio of this performance exists, while I have neither for Swervedriver. Here’s the rundown of Spoon’s set:
- Rocket USA (a Suicide cover)
- Mountain To Sound
- Utilitarian
- Minor Tough
- Primary
- Idiot Driver/ I Could See The Dude
- Get Out The State
- Metal Detektor
- The Guest List/ The Execution/ Not Turning Off
- Telemon Bridge
- Car Radio
- Waiting For The Kid To Come Out
- Lowdown (a Wire cover, not the Boz Skaggs song) (although the latter’s borderline disco groove might make more sense)
Here’s the audio from the show if you care to indulge:
This is the first time I’m listening to this performance since, and as mentioned wasn’t glued to their set at the time, either. I would rate this now as decent, but not exactly an otherworldly experience. Minor Tough actually sounds a lot more like Bush than anyone would probably like to admit – only the presence of this fluid drummer elevates Spoon beyond that. In fact I think the drummer is pretty much the only thing to get somewhat excited about on any of this stuff. At the end of Primary, Britt Daniel does mention that this is their first show on the tour, and throws a howdy out to the headliners. Aside from this, it’s decent background music, yes, as it was on a summer’s night in 1998.
Some of our friends are thoroughly engrossed with this group, though, or at least standing right in front of the stage as if they are. Jon’s up here with his girlfriend, Jennifer Thomas, and in this extended circle we find Dan Bandman, Jack Edinger, Scott Imsland, Tiffany Miller, Ben Kick, and a good dozen others. Most of all though I’m stoked to see my old friend Matt Montanya, as he and I continually crack up and discuss classic memories for the majority of Spoon’s duration on stage. Matt’s good arm is in a cast right now, not that this condition is limiting him from moshing when the mood strikes.
Early on, Weirick says to me, “I’ll buy if you fly,” which sets a pattern that will last the remainder of the concert: he’s paying for the beer, so long as I’m willing to retrieve them. And this is totally fine with me, for the sight lines and sound are great throughout this club, not to mention it affords an excellent opportunity to cover more ground and see who else I might rub shoulders with. Even in one instance next door neighbor Sean Gardner, who seems to have gotten over our covering the side of his house with a bunch of food. We talk for maybe thirty seconds before continuing our separate ways.
It’s tragic that I have the complete Spoon show, but that Swervedriver’s appears lost to the sands of time, at least for now. There’s always the hope of unearthing some documents or reliable memories, but the truth is, I’m not focusing any more to their set, either, though remaining rooted near the front of the stage. They are touring in support of their 4th album, 99th Dream, and while they’ve definitely lost some early fans by this stage of their career, and the critical buzz once surrounding them has moved on, I might personally like this material just as much as their previous, trendier stuff. It’s a great swirling album to throw on around the house when occupied elsewhere, the proverbial release that slowly grows on you. Less heavier than their earlier albums, but, as the title might indicate, a little more dreamy.
We will soon discover some of the reasons behind this momentum loss. It seems that upon rolling into town last night, these Swervedriver mates somehow caught word that our buddy Ben here would be a reliable local source for them to score some heroin. Apparently only two of the four band members are into this stuff, at least at present, and Ben does indeed deliver them the goods. He, along with a few other friends of mine who aren’t into the heroin scene at all – who only wished to hang out with Swervedriver – wound up visiting them at their hotel room last night, in the Holiday Inn on Lane Avenue. This has led to rumors that these same couple of characters might hit a party at Travis’s house, after the show tonight.
Without any knowledge or memories about particulars, it seems a good bet they played a solid amount of material in support of this most recent release. Also from what is probably the consensus favorite, Mezcal Head, which I have on cassette dubbed from a disc borrowed at the downtown library, and their equally praised debut, Raise, plus surely a smattering of the early EP and B-side type offerings. The dimmest corner of their repertoire for me is a third album I admittedly haven’t listened to, probably because it wasn’t even released in the U.S., coinciding with the rough five years in the wilderness there where the band seemed a bit lost, and you didn’t really hear much about them.
I only wish I had focused a little more, and taken better notes after the show, but am enjoying this reunion aspect and talking throughout, the same as everyone else is. Still, despite a lack of specifics, I know my impression at the time – echoed by just about all who’d seen both – is that this represents a solid outing, though nowhere near as mindblowing as that show in ’93. Yeah, yeah, I know, there’s nothing more tedious than a grizzled blowhard blathering on about previous concerts seen in sepia tinted decades past…but sometimes, these comparisons prove sort of useful.
The room is so insanely humid that these beverages seem to evaporate through our pores before cooling us down in the slightest. Standing maybe ten feet away from this four piece, we turn to them now and again, when not merely absorbed as an ear splitting soundtrack, and I do remember thinking it cool at the time that they don’t trifle with an encore. Then, following various high fives, quick recaps, and airing of vague impressions, we are in our various vehicles, seemingly half the crowd bound for Travis’s house on Patterson.
Alan and I stop off at the Kroger on 7th and High to pick up beer but then also some Krispy Kremes, basically as our dinner. By predetermined consensus, a bunch of us have agreed to meet at Weirick’s apartment, from which we will walk over to this bash. Once inside we are confronted by one of the mustiest trinkets imaginable, continuing this 1993 nostalgia theme – Jon throws on the debut album by Canadian rapper Snow, which he has for some reason in his living room CD collection. While he blasts Informer at full volume, Matt Kasper starts breakdancing to it, then a few others join in the fun. Meanwhile Weirick is showing Alan and me the scene of the crime, this coffee table where Montanya recently messed up his arm.
“Travis sat on it,” Jon explains, pointing at the empty hole in the middle pane, where a piece of glass should be, “then we put the pieces back together, and Montanya put this hand through it.” Apparently he was reaching for a pack of cigarettes on a lower shelf and wasn’t aware the glass had been reinstalled, necessitating a trip to the emergency room.
He does get at least one good story out of the cast, however. Once we arrive on foot at Travis’s house full of people, sitting or standing around in ever shifting packs to drink beer, play pool, and listen to music, two members of Swervedriver do indeed eventually drift through the front door. A number of us trail after them, once they breeze through the house and then out to the back yard, to shake their hands, to repeat the standard and surely tedious lines about tonight’s great show and a really good one we caught back in ’93 as well.
Alan and I spend a couple of minutes conversing with the tall, tough looking bass player, Steve George, who nonetheless possesses the requisite droll British nonchalance everyone expects. He seems kind of bored with the conversation until Alan mentions World Cup soccer, a genius move causing George’s eyes to light up. And so we bluff our way through this subject for a while. Then Alan presses his luck in asking the dude for a cigarette.
“Oh, sure, mate,” he replies, and fishes one out from the pack. Alan lights it, takes one puff, then discreetly spins away to hand it off to Jon Weirick.
“That cigarette he gave me was laced with pot!” Alan whispers to me, as the bassist is still within earshot, “I can’t be doing that shit with the Guard and everything!”
A short while later, I happen to be standing nearby when Matt Montanya starts chatting with both members of the band, and attempts signing these guys to a record deal. But instead they just sign his cast.
Swervedriver: bandanna shades trousers
II.
Here I will begin listing every Little Brother’s event that I come across, with hopefully a little bit of personal insight if possible. It never would have occurred to me in my wildest dreams that I would eventually wind up working the door some at this place, or the merch table for a Twilight Singers show. But I truly came to love this establishment and was sad to see this era come to a close. However, which is maybe only right, this was also ground zero for probably my worst night living in Columbus. I would still take those, too, once a decade or so – it’s a worthwhile tradeoff. I mean I’m sure this Standard Hall restaurant currently occupying 1100 N. High is great and all, but it’s clearly a totally different thing.
January 13, 1998 – Superstar Rookie, Midway, Vena Cava
They’re gracing the stage tonight at a relatively new music club on High, south of campus and just barely into the artsier, vaguely yuppie-fied district known as Short North. It’s a place called Little Brother’s, the creation of former treasured campus venue Stache’s owner, Dan Dougan. None of us have ever been here before, and furthermore, neither Damon nor Paul have yet seen this band, incredible though it seems.
The upper reaches of this Short North region are not quite as polished, as art gallery saturated, as the lower half or three quarters. Thus when we cruise past this distinctive off-white brick building, the individual blocks of which are by appearances each about as big as our television set, we’re pulling left into a gravel lot. Though not ordinarily locking my car, something about this neighborhood suggests it’s not the worst idea in the world to do so now.
Upon entering the club, a classy looking bar awaits us, to the right – and a number of familiar faces both there and beyond. Each of which, or at least those given to much emotion, seem fairly amazed that we would breeze in unannounced like this, particular as even Alan and I haven’t been to a gig since September. Most are lounging around the central seating region, a cavernous space between the bar and the stage, populated with a small fleet of tiny square tables. Overall I would estimate it claims about a third the space of the Newport’s ground floor, with a raised stage, and, via a walkway breezing past the right side of this platform, a backstage room to which Dan escorts us.
While the club itself has only been open six months, I’m guessing it might have served a similar purpose during previous incarnations. All four walls of this secluded rear bunker are plastered with posters, stickers, and the like, advertising a litany of past shows. Bandman can’t resist the temptation to slap a few transparent Superstar Rookie stickers throughout the room, and as I happen to spy a Mike Watt sticker on the wall, remnants of a solo jaunt, he admits it’s a little strange sometimes to think that he’s playing on the same stage as a guy like that.
But they’ve been here once before already, and will surely deliver the goods tonight, the early jitters long behind them. First, however, we have to wade through a couple of other unfamiliar acts. As a group we venture out to the tables, drop into loose formation, either standing or seated, along with Travis and the other guys from the band, in addition to all the other random spectators we know. Matt Montanya’s among those gathered here, and Jeremy Wendling, Tiffany Miller and that skinny blonde Lori chick I remember from previous parties. Matt Kasper, Kevin and Vanessa, and that strange little Greg character who’s always kind of a dick to me for reasons unknown, has been from day one.
Vena Cava is the opening act tonight, an artsy four piece. They’re okay but I can’t really seem to get into them. At least there’s a quality sound system here and some people who know how to run it, which bodes well for the remainder of the night. Midway, a punk outfit, assume the throne next and take advantage of this fact, faring much better. Then again it kind of doesn’t matter if you can’t play, and these guys certainly can. They pull off the often tricky balance of managing to rock mightily while at the same time displaying a comical stage presence. The drummer will execute these lightning fast rolls, for example, pausing for just a fraction of a millisecond to point his sticks at the singer, before falling into a normal beat again. And some of their touches are just plain musically impressive, such as the bass player’s occasional lilting harmonies.
Following their set, having observed a Papa John’s nearby on the drive in, I walk up the street to score some cheesy bread. On the way back, strolling down the eastern side of the street, where Little Brother’s sits, I pass this short, skinny black woman standing on a corner.
“Can I suck you tonight?” she asks, casually, without even really looking at me. Hmm, but no, thanks, I’m good on that front.
When I return, Montanya’s seated at my table, now, a welcome development, and Dan’s hanging around, is all but begging me for some cheesy bread. I don’t mind hooking him up with a few sticks – it only seems like the humane thing to do. The funny thing about this, though, is that as he leaves so Superstar Rookie can take the stage, Montanya, likely wasted and spotting the Papa John’s box but apparently not paying attention to any of these developments, asks me, “how’s your za?”
“My what?”
“How’s your za?” he repeats, and when I still evince some bafflement, he adds, “Your za! Your pete-za!”
As for Superstar Rookie, they sound far better than ever before – and were never bad to begin with. This is due in part to that superior PA and decent sound man, and this somewhat larger, musically dedicated club. Plus, at least for the time being, it appears they’ve reached a decision to flip-flop guitar players, as Dan is mostly playing the lead parts and Tony’s switched over to rhythm. Lastly, Brandon has also made great strides as a singer, since I last saw them in September.
They could already be the best local progenitors of whatever you call this particular strain, poppier than Midway but with some elements of punk woven in. Dan, having dispensed with the three piece suit business but still otherwise positively oozing with enthusiasm; Copper, solid yet possessing his own unique and powerful sound back there on drums; Travis mostly grinning and standing in place as he plays his bass, as though slightly unable to believe they’ve gotten this good so quickly; and Brandon, expressionless as a rule but with his face becoming flushed the more they play, also occasionally raising his eyebrows to deliver a line or sometimes pump his fist, albeit standing stationary for the most part just like Travis.
As for the set itself, these are mostly upbeat originals, though the sound, texture and speed vary from song to song. On exactly one occasion, Copper, whom Bandman once told me is actually an amazing multi-instrumentalist, drifts up to play guitar on a song he’s recently written, as Dan then takes his place behind the kit. And in keeping with what is apparently a tradition so far, they throw in a cover of Just What I Needed, plus a snippet of that one instrumental piece from Top Gun, Bandman beaming throughout as he wails away on guitar.
Damon is impressed, as we mostly suspected he would be, and will say of their show, “a lot of bands, I feel like they’re good, but you can kinda tell what their influences are. These guys don’t really sound like anybody.” For Paul to enthuse about them is really something, however, going as far as to track down Copper and tell him he’s an awesome drummer, asking the band for a copy of their tape – gestures Paul would never undertake if not genuine. While we are all sometimes capable of jackass comments blurted without thinking, and I especially often have a serious struggle being anything but real, I do at least attempt as much tact as possible if it occurs to me. But Radick rarely bothers, or is possibly incapable of such, knowing little else but the blunt approach.
Afterwards, we mingle with the band, mostly Dan, Travis, and Dave. Brandon remains aloof, although I think this is probably shyness more than anything else, while Tony it seems is a bit of a skirt chaser and works the room with that singular focus. Soon enough, with various handshakes doled out assuring them we’ll get together again before long, like with a very intoxicated Montanya, we shove off into the night.
February 7, 1998 – Superstar Rookie, Salthorse
In the midst of a crazy Saturday night with a ton of stuff transpiring, Jon Weirick calls me, proposing yet another option.
“Superstar Rookie’s playing at Little Brother’s tonight and your ass had better be there!” he threatens.
“Eh, maybe,” I tell him.
“What’s this maybe?” he demands.
Unusual for him, Paul R will wind up driving down from Lexington, and the two of us do indeed catch this show. It’s kind of strange, but though this feels like the least interesting of the four options initially presented to me for this night, driving down High Street to watch my buddies play nonetheless seems right, somehow. You can’t even really put your finger on it, but buried somewhere is the notion that an option you hadn’t even known about when the day began is the correct one, the one you always knew you’d follow, all the same. And I think maybe this is the function of friends, in a metaphysical sense. Beyond the obvious benefits of social interaction and mental well-being, they also help you interpret reality. Though appearing as inconveniences in the moment, all of these phone calls still without question help me sort out what is really going on.
“Hey hey!” Dan Bandman greets us upon arrival.
Travis is also pleasantly surprised, though unable to resist calling out the busted up nature of my spectacles, which I’ve forgotten to remove. “Dude, what is up with your glasses?” he howls. Apart from being Coke-bottle thick and composed of a wire frame highly redolent of 1986 fashions, they are held together by bent paperclips, and there’s also a huge chunk gouged out of the left lens now. One night I was walking home from Woody’s and right by Taj Mahal, on the sidewalk beside their wrought iron fence, these glasses fell from my head, scooping out this crater in the process.
As far as Superstar Rookie constituents are concerned, Jeremy Wendling is making a somewhat unexpected appearance. Dan Goddard and Ana are here, as is Jon Weirick with his now reconciled girlfriend Jennifer Thomas, back with him following a temporary separation. Otherwise, it’s a fairly typical, half full crowd for a spacious bar on a random winter night.
“I did not expect to see you here, the way you were talking on the phone,” Weirick admits.
A four piece by the name of Salthorse kicks off the night. The spelling they’ve chosen is unfortunate, only the first of many bad decisions made. I mean, is this sal-thorse or salt horse we are watching? But you catch glimpses which suggest this could be a great band, which makes the rest so frustrating.
Most of their troubles, I hate to say it, but you can pin these to the feet of their lead singer. Initial impressions are that they rock, but their vocalist, who also strums rhythm guitar and oh yeah is wearing a navy blue ski cap, is a little bit on the silly side. He also keeps making a bunch of inexplicably goofy faces, like bugging his eyes out with tongue extended, as he bites down on it, which completely undermine any rocking aspects to their songs. Or regarding the mic like it’s a foreign object, or high stepping around the stage like someone attempting to avoid mud puddles.
“This guy’s getting on my nerves,” I tell Paul.
“Mine too,” he admits.
“The band rocks, but their singer makes me feel like I’m gonna throw up,” I add.
“I know,” he agrees.
Everything is a matter of personal taste, obviously, yet it’s difficult to imagine that even the group themselves are entirely comfortable with this persona. Right before I’d said this, the impetus for my comment, their singer executed another bugged out eyes expression, this time with his chin titled to the left, lips pulled back in a horrified mimic of a scream while theoretically regarding some person in the audience. Except you can tell at a glance this isn’t genuine inspiration, rather the nervous stage tics of someone uncomfortable up there and attempting to overcompensate with kooky affected mannerisms. It sucks being on edge in the spotlight, sure, but I would say just stand and sweat in your boots like everybody else.
“Can you believe this whole band is made up of Lexington grads?” Jon remarks offhand, as he and Jennifer are hanging out with the two of us. “They all four graduated, like, class of ‘88 or ‘89…”
This seems like another crazy development, even if these guys are likely just a little too old for me to have made their acquaintance. Jon knows the lead player’s name, though, the burly dude with curly hair on the left, shredding lead guitar and probably the best musician in the band: Milan Karcic. But I will soon learn another factoid that shouldn’t matter, yet it’s impossible to ignore and now has me viewing them in a different light. The lead singer is Dan Focht, a name I’ve only seen thus far. We’re still getting his mail at 1990 ½ Summit Street. He and I don’t know who else were the theorized “skate punks” who’d lived there right before we moved in. Wow.
The set soon ends and Salthorse walks off to a smattering of applause. After a short intermission, our boys in Superstar Rookie take the stage, and while I wouldn’t say this is one of their top outings, they’re still delivering the goods at a high level. They’ve come a long way in swift order and I would already consider them one of Columbus’s best live acts. Brandon does still have some room to grow as a singer, but he hasn’t been at this long and would surely rate himself in the same fashion. Even after – or possibly as a result of – shifting Tony over to rhythm guitar, he’s still struggling at times to find his niche within the group. That’s about it for the slight beefs, however, as the strength of the remaining core, Bandman and Tyo and Copper, more than make up the difference. On a technical level, the sound maybe isn’t quite as awe inspiring as the first occasion we witnessed them here, but any marginal decline is more than made up by the swarm of dancing bodies before the stage.
Afterwards, Paul and I chat with the guys and hang out in the small backstage area while they’re tearing down. One curious encounter which makes me wonder about my wingman here concerns a short blonde girl who apparently went to high school with us – Radick was a grade below me and I wouldn’t claim to know anywhere close to everyone in his class – who certainly looks attractive enough and is chatting his ear off, trying to talk him into the inevitable party at Travis’s later. Yet he remains non-committal at best to her overtures, in fact it’s pretty obvious he has no interest in attending.
“You guys should come party with us later!” she insists, shifting her gaze over to me in a last ditch plea, as though I might have the power to sway him, “there’s gonna be tons of girls gettin drunk!”
February 15, 1998 – File
This Cajun band named File plays a 4pm show, brought to you by the Short North Folk Sampler.
1999
September 24: Royal Trux
2000
January 1 – Mullins Band playing (but of course) a “Mullinnium Party.”
January 8 – Elvis-A-Thon. 4th Annual.
January 15 – Velveteens
January 22 – Fred Haring and the Franklin County All-Stars CD release party. Yikes. This is what’s scheduled, anyway, but if I’m not mistaken Haring scrapped his own CD release plans for the time being. I’m not sure if he played the show anyway.
January 27 – Hot Club of Cowtown with Jack Neat. I’m not sure if this is one entity or two. I can’t make any sense of what’s going on with that name.
January 28 – Tiara/Betaroric CD release. Tiara plays in support of their new album Again Cast In. This is show is reviewed by Jerry Dannemiller for The Other Paper and he says they were overly loud, which tended to obscure their sharp songwriting, and made the vocals seem especially weak by comparison. And that the closing 10 minute number was especially brutal. Betaroric (now that’s a strangely twisted mouthful) is also celebrating a new CD, though he has even fewer nice words for this outfit, labeling them “the sound of Midwestern art students looking at themselves in the mirror” and describing their sound as sometimes resembling a fork caught in the garbage disposal.
January 31 – Jack Ingram
Every Sunday (as of January): Flex Crew (reggae)
February 2 – The Sovines, The Bottlerockets
February 3 – The Twist-Offs
February 4 – Stepford 5 CD release party. Templeton and Electric Porn open.
February 5 – The Cowslingers, Bottletones, Blatant Finger
February 11 – Scrawl and Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments (?). Although I see a different events calendar listing Lunasa as playing here at 8pm.
February 16 – Nashville Pussy
March 3 – Tim Easton
March 4: Columbusmusic.com showcase, including Go Robot, Go! and others. This is the 2nd such event, meant to promote the website (it features downloadable mp3s by local acts). Throat Culture (a cappella) open, performing both originals but some covers that sound like they must have been awesome – such as AC/DC’s TNT done doo-wop style. Website owner Jason Clayton is on hand, passing copies of a sampler (Super Sampler Volume I) featuring all these acts, as well as a handful of others.
Templeton is next, followed by the heavily touted NUdE, then GRG. By the time they take the stage, it’s about 2 in the morning.
March 5: Yeah No (NYC) with Avant Collective (local) opening
March 7: Two Dollar Guitar
March 9: Fighting Gravity, Jerkwater Jive, Fallout Shelter
March 10: ARA Benefit featuring Hoodoo Soul Band, Mescalito, Soul Fu Villains
March 16: Local heroes Scrawl, with support from Girlie Machine. Scrawl drummer Dana Marshall used to play with Girly Machine and is performing with both – his last show with Scrawl, too, as he is moving overseas
March 28: Yo La Tengo, Quickspace
March 30 – Knee Jerk Reaction
March 31 – John Mullins Band
April 5: Bad Livers
April 6 – Richard Buckner
April 10 – The Gunga Din
April 11: Cat Power
April 20 – The Melvins
April 22 – Workbook Studios CD release party for Proud Like Parents compilation. No Tagbacks, Silo The Huskie, The Randys, The Stepford Five, A Planet For Texas, Gilmore Tamny, Amy Alwood, Jon Chinn perform. A computer is set up at the show so fans can play songs from the CD, and order it online from the dedicated website page. As an added bonus, the cover charge is being donated to Wellness Community.
April 28: BR5-49, with opening act Tarbox Ramblers (Cambridge, MA). Slaybaugh raves about Tarbox in his 5/4/00 review for Alive.
May 1 – Rock For FLOC. A benefit for migrant workers, staged by the Farm Labor Organizing Committee. Doors open at 6 for an all-ages show (Cessna, Mr. Celery Face, Fletch Wiley), with a regular 18+ one to follow at 10 (Stepford Five, F*Bomb, Floatation Walls). There’s even a special Dan Dougan appearance!
May 6 – Fred Haring CD release. For real this time. Apparently the one earlier this year was canceled.
May 11 – The Go
May 20: Local band HensleySturgis play a CD release party, commemorating their debut album Open Lanes.
May 31: Juliana Hatfield and her other band, Juliana’s Pony, both play
June 1: L7
June 5: Collapsis
June 6: Asylum Street Spankers, Ukelele Man
June 7 – Shaffer Street
June 12 – The Skatalites
June 14 – Todd Snider, Dan Dougan
June 16 – Legendary Pink Dots
June 19 – Rebirth Brass Band, New Basics Brass Band
June 20 – Quadrajets, The Bell Rays, Fireballs of Freedom
June 21 – MP3 Showcase featuring Emily Richards, Bryan Kelly, and others
June 26 – Blonde Redhead
July 1 – Mojo Nixon. This is billed as a “Co-Dependence Day Party.”
July 8 – Season’s End CD release
July 24 – an interesting first ever foray into digital broadcasting for this venue. A website called “Digital Club Network” is hosting a four day online festival, broadcasting live shows. New Bomb Turks, Bob City, and Them Wranch perform to an actual crowd, though anyone can also watch for free online, from a static, single camera video feed. Some buffering issues aside, the event proved mostly a success.
July 28 – HensleySturgis again, this time with Hayseed
July 29 – Flyin’ Saucers
August 4 – New Duncan Imperials (billed as their “last Columbus show”)
October 10 – Martin Sexton. Damon and Leah are at this show. He ends up raving about this guy and his guitar playing abilities, says it was a really good performance.
November 11 – Superstar Rookie CD release. Pretty Mighty Mighty and A Planet For Texas also play.
Alive names Little Brother’s as the best place in town for rock n’ roll, 2000. Paul Bearer works the door and Bill Kramer is the sound man.
2001
January 12 – Elvis-a-thon Benefit
January 20 – Gaza Strippers
February 6 – J. Mascis
October 11 – Peach Melba, The Almighty Senators
October 12 – Uncle Sam’s Dream Machine, The Sultans of Bing
October 13 – Scoot-A-Que 4 event! A Planet For Texas, Superstar Rookie, Fat Ass, The Patsys (possibly The Cutters, mentioned in at least one events calendar).
October 14 – Thalia Zedek
October 15 – Aboogatoot, Len Lew
October 19 – Salt Horse CD release party. Joined by Grafton, Pretty Mighty Mighty, The Marcy Mays Experience
October 24 – Willie Phoenix, Johnson Brothers, X-Rated Cowboys
October 25 – Derek Webb with Sandra McCracken
October 26 – Stone Velvet, Go Robot Go, Barefoot Landing
October 27 – The Paladins with Ray Fuller & The Bluesrockers, Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash
October 28 – 3pm show is Columbus Blues Alliance Twin Tower Benefit. Dave Chisholm Band, Blues at Last, Nighttrain, Willie Pooch & The Upsetters, Teeny Tucker Band all play.
Then a different 8pm show, not part of this, which features Mezzanine C-14, Bob City, Grafton, The Weary Boys
October 29 – Karma To Burn with Bastard Squad of America
October 30 – Tomato Box Creative Music Ensemble, with The Avant Collective opening. The Other Paper raved about the first, John Zorn likes the latter.
October 31 – Jive Turkeys, Go Evol Shiki, Di Di Mao, Suran Song in Stag, Flotation Walls
November 1 – Jude, Michelle Branch with Scott Dorsuch
November 24 – Willie Phoenix, Johnson Brothers, X-Rated Cowboys
December 14 – Watershed, Willie Phoenix, The Stepford Five play benefit show for Grant/Riveride Pet Therapy Program. This supplies terminally ill patients with free pets. Attendees get a gratis copy of Watershed’s latest single, Can’t Be Myself
December 20 – Over the Rhine
I think they have one pool table to the left, in front of the restrooms.
2005
October 1: Tom Waits-a-Thon. Local acts ranging from Bob Sauls to Champipple to Ukelele Man tackle cover tunes by the gravel throated legend.
October 5: Posies, with Miranda Sound (local) and Oranger (not sure) opening.
