VOICES | Minneapolis music memories

Growing up in rural western Minnesota in the 1970’s, I enjoyed all the cultural benefits you would expect when living only minutes from Fargo, ND. I’m no music snob – I loved the classic rock that formed the soundtrack to my childhood but like Ian Dury said, “You’ll see glimpses.” It was Bowie, Alice Cooper and Cheap Trick that stood out. My older brother played them too loud in a ’74 AMX that he drove too fast and when you slammed the door, it sounded like…America.

My Generation: First in a series.

Our local FM station hid Blondie, Gary Numan and “Train In Vain” between REO Speedwagon and Kenny Loggins. I saw the 60 Minutes profile of the Sex Pistols until my mom turned it off in disgust. I kept seeing glimpses: the Clash on Fridays, Gang of Four on Dance Fever, The Dickies on CPO Sharkey, Roxy Music in the 50¢ bin at Woolworth’s. Then my brother went to college…

His roommate at Moorhead State was a punk from the Cities with a stack of vinyl that permanently opened my eyes on Christmas Day, 1983. My brother’s present was 10 cassettes on which he had recorded the Stranglers, Pere Ubu, Dead Kennedys, the Buzzcocks and more. I played “Orgasm Addict” in the locker room after football practice. I acquired a reputation. I went to college in 1985, then quit in ‘88 when I moved to the Cities to get a brain, a heart and some courage. Waiting tables at Bennigan’s, I got bored fast and answered a Sunday Strib ad: “Downtown nightclub security.” Three days later, I was working at First Avenue.

Second night I was at the Entry door for a Dumptruck show. It was slow and I was questioning my career path when a short, balding, disheveled guy in torn jeans and a filthy shirt mumbled incoherently and blew past me without paying. There was a homeless shelter across the street and vagrants were always trying to use the bathroom, so I knew what to do. I called for backup and was about to give him the bum’s rush when the coat check girl told me it was Steve McClellan. God bless him.

Today: Now that Brokeback Mountain has officially replaced “Current 89.3” bumperstickers as the secret handshake of Pinko progressive politics, I didn’t want to be one of those people with opinions about movies they hadn’t seen. So I wandered downtown to Maple Grove, excuse me…Block E to confront my inner gay cowboy.

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How many local bands today could do three full sets at the bar and still have the strength to trash my house, steal my beer, and pass out in my bathtub?

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It wasn’t playing at Block E, of course. Walking back to my car from the Hard Rock, however, put me face to face with First Avenue, like walking out of the Aladdin in Vegas and seeing CBGB’s. I remember the first time I came to the Cities back in 10th grade and stood in pretty much the same spot I was now. The ghosts of Moby’s, Shinders and the original Northern Lights loomed large. I remembered the records I bought – Ultravox! and the Angelic Upstarts. Those places were gone while First Avenue remained, a medieval fortress sheltering musical illuminati from the ignorant hordes of progress. I saw the names on the outside wall: Replacements, Suburbs, Soul Asylum. How many local bands today could do three full sets at the bar and still have the strength to trash my house, steal my beer, and pass out in my bathtub?

The day in October 2005 when I read that First Ave was closing, I got all clammy and my morning huevos raced through my colon like they were being chased by Kirstie Alley. I had seen literally hundreds of shows at First Ave, until we all started taking it for granted. I decided then that I needed to tell my daughter why this place is important, why it matters before they build another godawful lifestyle center on its corpse. So gather around, kids. Grandpop has some stories about the old days…

BTW, those tapes my brother made in 1983? I still have them all.

Legal restrictions compel Almostred to write under an assumed name. His identity isn’t a big secret but you don’t know him anyway. He is survived by a daughter who doesn’t appreciate his esoteric musical sensibilities and a bank account currently residing with his ex-wife. His massive record collection is considered quite hip by the young people. Contact him at almostredd@hotmail.com.