I see Scott Hall walking down the street,
spiffed up and
postering for his own show at the WWII tonight. I tell him he looks famous. He's nervous, not nervous.
I take him out to dinner at Joe's and insist on paying because he's the star tonight.. he's never fronted a band before. He told me, four years ago, he and some friends were playing "pass the guitar" and he realized that they all had songs of their own to sing, but he didn't. If these jerks can write songs, why can't i?! So he decided that when he had ten songs, he would do a show, with his friends (some from the band, others from elsewhere). So this was the day for Scott Hall and the Setbacks, a temporary band. Some friends open for him. It feels like a family. My dad would love this.
The World War II is actually the World War II veterans' club in Northampton, graced with a periscope that looks out over the town, a bar with cheap beers, and three pool tables. So this is where you can go to be away from Smithies, Umass frat guys, all those other caricatures, this is where the twentysomethings are, with the local music that's been pushed out of the Iron Horse by our local entertainment monopoly. This is it, rubbing elbows with the veterans, laughing. Rah rah. I was never comfortable at a bar, especially when i don't know anyone (but the band!)
It is not a disappointment. But i leave after the show, after congratulating him, because it is almost two and i have to work. Always have to work. The Neil Young song he played stays with me throughout the coming weekend.