Primus Sucks In Seattle (Part Four--The End)
Mary and I stepped up to the I.D. checkers at the entrance to the Beer Garden. To call it a Beer Garden is being pretty generous with the description; it really was more like a Beer Prison Exercise Yard. It was located behind the black curtain that blocked the view of the stage and its perimeter was determined by metal blockades, much like the ones used to protect Al Roker from the I-Went-To-New-York-City-And-Waved-For-Three-Hours morons on the Today show. There were five portable beer stands and no lines!
Even though the doors had opened a little early, the Beer Prison Exercise Yard was not overly populated. It seemed that most of the fans that had waited in line before the show bolted for the area directly in front of the stage, so it was pretty quiet behind the curtain. We had our I.D.s checked, smiling because we obliterated the date on the "must be born on this day or before" signs and got a kick out of the 22 year old security guard when he did a double-take upon seeing birthdates in the 1960s on our licenses. That's right sonny, we're here to see Primus and bless your heart for wonderin' if we were lost.
We thought it was odd that they'd gone through the trouble to check I.D.s at the entrance to the Yard, but not given us a bracelet or a hand-stamp. We walked into the Yard and looked for a place to sit down. There were a few tables spread out, but most were occupied. Mary spied a couple of tables with just a few occupants way at the far end of the Yard. So we ordered up a couple of Fat Tire Ales and there was a discussion between the two people manning the stand over whether I had to show my I.D. again. I submitted that I had indeed shown my card to the fine folks at the entrance, but they could see it again here at the stand if need be. I was waved off and they poured my two tasty brews.
The wife and I made our way to one of the under-occupied tables at the far end of the Yard. Security guards manned the blockades every 40 feet or so and it gave the pen even more of a jailhouse feel. I also felt a little like an exhibit on display. People would stroll by the Yard and watch us drink our beer. It was a little annoying and I began to understand why primates throw their feces at zoo visitors.
There were two big dudes at the table we chose. They nodded and smiled when we asked if we could join them. After learning that they were from the Seattle area, I asked if they held concerts in the Seahawks Exhibition Center very often. They raised their eyebrows and said not that they know of. They too, were surprised to see that a concert was being held here instead of one of the local theaters or clubs. We exchanged theories and ended up shrugging, at least happy that beer was being served.
Another couple then came up and asked to sit at the table. The guy was completely stoned. Baked, I believe, is the term the kids use these days. He sat very rigidly in his chair in an effort to maintain some illusion of sobriety. A little comatose, he didn't immediately participate in the ensuing small talk between us all at the table. His girlfriend seemed the opposite; she was pretty amped up and spoke very fast and made little sense to me. She was Ying to his Yang, I suppose. Somewhere during the evening, their levels of intoxication would match up perfectly, him waking up and her coming down. I imagine that moment must be romantic in a strange way.
They were all impressed that Mary and I were from California and came to this show. I was assuring them that we didn't make the trip expressly to see Primus, but fit it into our visit to Seattle, when I noticed a guy walking towards the last beer stand. He was walking with a look of determination and purpose, but never glanced up at the beer prices or even at the two people behind the counter.
Then I realized he was heading for the grey plastic trash can on the side of the beer cart. But I wasn't sure what he was up to until I saw his face blanch a little right as he reached it. "Here we go", I said and Mary turned around just in time to see this guy let it all go.
Normally, I wouldn't watch such a spectacle. Seeing, or even hearing, someone wretch can easily induce a gag reflex in most people. Hell, just reading this has some of you grimacing, at least a little more than my prose would ordinarily cause. But this young man was so business-like and efficient that no one at our table could look away. We were about 20 feet away from the action, yet no sound was emitted and the visuals weren't half as disgusting as the average IHOP breakfast plate.
With his hands still on his knees, he paused once and gazed over his shoulder to see the look on the face of the weary beer vendor. The lady frowned slightly and turned away. "Sorry", he said and went back to finishing the task at hand. I looked around the table and everyone was gawking at this fete. One of the two first guys at the table broke the stunned silence and yelled out some encouragement to the young man; "Remember bro: puke and rally. Puke and rally." Laughter arose from the tables around us as The Vomiter acknowledged the suggestion with a "thumbs up" and stood up straight. He then walked, slowly at first, over to his friends who were standing in a half-circle watching him make his deposit. He raised his arms in triumph and let forth with a joyous, "Whoooooo!!!"
The sound rang of off the concrete floors and reverberated off of the far walls of the hall. Almost immediately, we heard the responsory cries of "Whooooo!!" and "Yeeeeaaaahhhh!!" from around the Beer Prison Exercise Yard and even from beyond the black curtain. The primal ceremony was repeated several times with more and more yelling from around the hall until a security team escorted our young Vomiter out of the Yard and (I presume) back into General Population.
We turned our attention back to our table-mates and made some more chitchat. We found out that radio in Seattle sucks just as much as it does in Fresno and most everywhere else. Music playing over the P.A. before the show wafted lightly through the air; strange music that sounded at times like old soft swing tunes with clarinets and other times like dreamy soundscapes created by instruments of unknown origin. Then I recognized some selections as tunes from Danny Elfman's soundtrack to Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. Wonderful, I thought. Mary is not a Pee Wee Herman fan in the least and this would not gear her up for a Primus show. I, on the other hand, saw this music as somehow fitting for Primus warm up tunes.
We got another round and started thinking about getting a place to stand out on the Exhibition Center's floor. It was getting close to 8:00 and we didn't want to be stuck in the Yard when Primus hit the stage. As we drained the last of our beers, we listened to the disembodied voice of Frank Rizzo over the P.A. The board operators were now playing a Jerky Boys CD. Again, somehow fitting.
We exited the Yard and made our way onto the floor where the earlybirds had been while we had our drinks. Instead of joining the fracas right away, we decided to look at the merchandise booth. I found a cool Primus shirt and an '04 tour poster. Mary surprised me by buying a ladies Primus shirt. It reads, "Here Come The Bastards" with the image of a blonde, screaming and recoiling like some 1950s horror flick lobby poster. Its adorable.
Most of the area in front of the stage was full of people in all sorts of concert shirt regalia. Shirts from concerts past were worn with pride and represented all genres of music. There were shirts with logos of Metallica, Pink Floyd, Grateful Dead, Phish, Yes, and Bob Marley among many others. I thought it was interesting to see fans from the "jamband" scene in such large numbers at this show. I can only surmise that its due to the fact that bassist/vocalist Les Claypool has been playing with many bands of that genre in recent years and has created some crossover interest in Primus. I never have seen Primus as appealing to the neo-hippies of the "jamband" arena. That is, until I saw this show.
We took up a spot near the soundboard and found a decent angle for Mary to see the stage from. Primus is taper-friendly and I noticed a few taping rigs in front of the board. I also noticed some costumed folks gearing up for the show.
The guy in the middle is the mosquito from the cover of the Primus EP, Miscellaneous Debris. Who the gal on the left is and why an Oompa Loompa was there, I have no clue.
The stage was bare except for 3 large white balloons that seemed about 6 feet tall. As the lights went down, they were raised above the stage and "PRIMUS" was projected onto each of them. The band took the stage and Claypool started things off with some rumbling bass riffs that eventually led into "Here Come The Bastards". Mary smiled and nodded at me. She bought the right shirt tonight.
In the time we had before the show, I looked around at the Exhibition Center and became a little concerned about the sound quality of a vacuous place like this. But my worries were soon laid to rest; it sounded surprisingly good. The sound was clear and bright, not too boomy like I expected. The vocals were a little low in the mix and if you weren't familiar with the lyrics to the tunes, I doubt you could make any out. Mary struggled with that a bit, but she got the gist of it by virtue of having to endure past Primus shows.
The band pounded away and stretched many tunes way past their studio incarnation's length. Was this Les incorporating a "jamband" sensibility to Primus' music? In the past, I'd only seen Primus do a standard show, ripping away at song after song, squeezing in as many as possible during the concert. This time, they meandered around inside of songs for awhile, sometimes making me forget what song it was that they were playing until it was reprised a few minutes later. I was really enjoying every note, but I stole a few glances over at Mary to make sure she was hanging in there. I'd gotten her this far and didn't want to lose her now. So as much as I was getting off on the show, in my mind I was thinking, "C'mon guys, move onto something my wife will dig!"
Primus featured some selections from the album, Pork Soda, which is probably my least favorite from their catalog, but they gained somewhat of a new life in my head hearing them again live. At one point, Les Claypool thanked the audience for "comin' out to the car show tonight", an obvious reference to the fact that this was a strange venue to hold a concert. I doubt most of the moshpit knuckledraggers got that one.
On the large white balloons, video images were displayed during songs. Most were of the band cavorting about in various costumes and poses. The film was sped up just a bit and skipped frames from time to time, making a bizarre effect. During the song, My Friend Fats, computer generated video of a human X-ray played and at times I thought the imagery was very TOOL-esque. On a side note: Upon first hearing My Friend Fats after buying the latest Primus EP/DVD, I thought it was reminiscent of TOOL's sound. Come to find out, Claypool has been jamming with TOOL's drummer. More outside influences rubbing off on Primus?
The first set came to a close and the word, "Intermission" was put up on each of the balloons. By this time, Mary and I had moved a bit more towards the back of the crowd, our space having been invaded by some breed of giants. They grow 'em big up there in the Northwest and neither of us could see the stage except for glimpses through bobbing heads. We didn't come all this way to see Primus a few seconds at a time between two Sasquatch, so we migrated to the rear where we could see the entire stage and the sound, while not as thumpin', was still quite good.
So when I saw "Intermission" flash on the balloons, I asked Mary if she wanted a beer during the break. I didn't really need an answer and we turned around and headed for the end of the curtain again. We heard a bunch of hoots and hollers behind us and when we looked to see what was going on, we saw a stampede heading right for us. "They're all heading for Beer Jail", Mary laughed. We were fairly close to the entrance, but we still walked briskly. People passed us by at full sprints, laughing and yelling all the while. It wasn't quite the Land Race at Ozzfest '99 (see story: Archives, April 04), but it may have been more dangerous because these crazed mutants were on concrete.
We got into the Yard and ordered up a couple of drinks. We found a bar-height table to lean on and camp out for the intermission. A couple of huge guys joined us. They had two beers each and were already pretty skunked. I decided to get us another round before the end of the break and got in line at one of the stands. Security was all over the Yard now because there were some very drunk people wandering around. My line was moving well and I had no worries about getting served before the second set started. Just then, the booth next to the one I was in line for shut down and those in that line were directed to another booth. There was a mass migration of drunks and much confusion. The security manager, who had on one of those Cape Canaveral headsets, was talking excitedly into his mouthpiece and waving at someone across the Yard.
I was second in line now and saw that this whole situation was going to get the kibosh put on it any minute. The head of security was now standing right next to me and I was watching him as beads of sweat built up on his forehead while he looked nervously from side to side. He leaned over to one very drunk young kid and cut him off. The kid protested loudly and more people chimed in. The Yard was on the brink of chaos. If there had been mattresses around, these maniacs would have set them on fire and thrown them around, just like in those Pelican Bay documentaries.
The security guy had seen enough. Just as I was stepping up to the counter to order, he leaned over my shoulder and told the vendors to shut it down. I looked at him and said, "Ah, no. C'mon man, I just got up here".
"Sorry, sir. That's it tonight", he replied.
I told him, "Y'know, I waited patiently while these kids caused all the problems here. Just one more round, huh?"
He looked at me pretty hard for a moment and asked, "How many have you had tonight?"
"Me?", I asked, putting my palm on my chest. "Two or three". I was not drunk and he knew he was dealing with an adult here.
"Alright, one more beer, but after that its shut down", he said not so much to me but to the beer vendor.
He started to walk away, so I put my hand on his elbow. "Uh, actually, I was going to get a beer for my wife too."
This time he thought I was scamming him so he said, "Okay, where's your wife?" with a hint of smartass.
"Shit, man. Are you kidding me?"
"Nope. Where is she?"
"She's way over there", I said pointing off into the far reaches of the Yard. I could see how he might think I was trying to get over on him. "I'm serious, she's right over there.
"Let's see her", he smirked.
"Let's go", I said and we walked about halfway to where Mary was standing with the huge guys at the bar table. She came into view about 50 feet away and I waved to get her attention. She caught my gaze and waved back, but with a somewhat confused smile, wondering who the hell I was standing with. I said under my breath, "That's it Honey, wave to the nice security man." I turned to find out if he was looking where I was. "See?", I asked him.
"Yeah, okay", he muttered. We started to turn to head back to the stand when he stopped dead and looked at me hard again. "Wait a minute. Whose beers are those?" He was pointing to the huge guys' four full beers on the table in front of Mary. This time one of the huge guys caught us looking at him and he waved enthusiastically with the dumbest grin I've ever seen. I laughed and said, "Naw, man. That ain't my boy. I don't even know that guy. Those are his beers, I swear." We looked back to the table and the big idiot now gave me a big "thumbs up".
"Swear to God, man", I giggled while holding my hands up in innocence.
The security guy chuckled and we walked over to the beer stand. He leaned in to the vendor and said, "Two more to this guy and no one else, alright?" The confused vendor nodded and poured me two Fat Tires. As I paid, I could hear the whiny protests of the drunks that had been left in the aftermath of the near riot. All the other stands were already shut down and when I turned to take my beer back to the table, I felt the thirsty glare of three-hundred angry drunkards.
As I approached Mary at the table, I held the beers aloft and cheered, "Last two pours in the house right here". That didn't go over too well, but Mary laughed and we sipped our treasured brew slowly to savor the victory.
Right about then, we heard the crowd roar in approval of the lights going down. The second set was starting. We could hear the show just fine through the curtain, so instead of slamming the beer, we just took our time and headed out after the first song. This time, we took up various locations around the Exhibition Center's floor, checking out different vantage points. About halfway through the second set, we settled on a spot closer to the exit doors so as to make a quick escape at the conclusion of the show.
Mary was holding up remarkably well considering the new, expansive style Primus was playing in. But a 15 minute drum solo almost did her in towards the end. Even I had to question the pacing where a drum solo comes so late in the show when you've already severely challenged your audience's attention span as it is. By the end of the second set, she was ready to go, but I protested. Traditionally, Primus would play one song for the encore. I couldn't see leaving with just one more song to go (although we did do just that at a Gov't Mule show once--Archives: April '04).
Luckily, the encore was Jerry Was A Race Car Driver, a chunky-riffed tune that is a strong fan favorite. Right as the lights came up, we made tracks for the exit doors. We beat most of the mob out. Walking back down the alley towards Pioneer Square, we hailed a cab to take us back to the hotel. As we climbed in the back seat, the Pakistani driver asked us if the Mariners won.
"Oh, we didn't go to the game", Mary said.
The driver looked confused. "No?", he asked.
"No, we were at a concert next door", I told him.
He nodded, "Oh, I see. Who was in the concert?"
"Primus", I said.
"Who?", he blurted. "Primush?"
"Uh, no. Primus", I corrected him. "They're a rock band."
"Oh, I see", he replied, smiling. "They were good, yes? Primush?"
Oh brother, I thought. This went on for a few blocks with little success. So for all the effort it took to get Mary to see Primus in Seattle, my biggest challenge was trying to explain Primus to a Pakistani cabbie.
Even though the doors had opened a little early, the Beer Prison Exercise Yard was not overly populated. It seemed that most of the fans that had waited in line before the show bolted for the area directly in front of the stage, so it was pretty quiet behind the curtain. We had our I.D.s checked, smiling because we obliterated the date on the "must be born on this day or before" signs and got a kick out of the 22 year old security guard when he did a double-take upon seeing birthdates in the 1960s on our licenses. That's right sonny, we're here to see Primus and bless your heart for wonderin' if we were lost.
We thought it was odd that they'd gone through the trouble to check I.D.s at the entrance to the Yard, but not given us a bracelet or a hand-stamp. We walked into the Yard and looked for a place to sit down. There were a few tables spread out, but most were occupied. Mary spied a couple of tables with just a few occupants way at the far end of the Yard. So we ordered up a couple of Fat Tire Ales and there was a discussion between the two people manning the stand over whether I had to show my I.D. again. I submitted that I had indeed shown my card to the fine folks at the entrance, but they could see it again here at the stand if need be. I was waved off and they poured my two tasty brews.
The wife and I made our way to one of the under-occupied tables at the far end of the Yard. Security guards manned the blockades every 40 feet or so and it gave the pen even more of a jailhouse feel. I also felt a little like an exhibit on display. People would stroll by the Yard and watch us drink our beer. It was a little annoying and I began to understand why primates throw their feces at zoo visitors.
There were two big dudes at the table we chose. They nodded and smiled when we asked if we could join them. After learning that they were from the Seattle area, I asked if they held concerts in the Seahawks Exhibition Center very often. They raised their eyebrows and said not that they know of. They too, were surprised to see that a concert was being held here instead of one of the local theaters or clubs. We exchanged theories and ended up shrugging, at least happy that beer was being served.
Another couple then came up and asked to sit at the table. The guy was completely stoned. Baked, I believe, is the term the kids use these days. He sat very rigidly in his chair in an effort to maintain some illusion of sobriety. A little comatose, he didn't immediately participate in the ensuing small talk between us all at the table. His girlfriend seemed the opposite; she was pretty amped up and spoke very fast and made little sense to me. She was Ying to his Yang, I suppose. Somewhere during the evening, their levels of intoxication would match up perfectly, him waking up and her coming down. I imagine that moment must be romantic in a strange way.
They were all impressed that Mary and I were from California and came to this show. I was assuring them that we didn't make the trip expressly to see Primus, but fit it into our visit to Seattle, when I noticed a guy walking towards the last beer stand. He was walking with a look of determination and purpose, but never glanced up at the beer prices or even at the two people behind the counter.
Then I realized he was heading for the grey plastic trash can on the side of the beer cart. But I wasn't sure what he was up to until I saw his face blanch a little right as he reached it. "Here we go", I said and Mary turned around just in time to see this guy let it all go.
Normally, I wouldn't watch such a spectacle. Seeing, or even hearing, someone wretch can easily induce a gag reflex in most people. Hell, just reading this has some of you grimacing, at least a little more than my prose would ordinarily cause. But this young man was so business-like and efficient that no one at our table could look away. We were about 20 feet away from the action, yet no sound was emitted and the visuals weren't half as disgusting as the average IHOP breakfast plate.
With his hands still on his knees, he paused once and gazed over his shoulder to see the look on the face of the weary beer vendor. The lady frowned slightly and turned away. "Sorry", he said and went back to finishing the task at hand. I looked around the table and everyone was gawking at this fete. One of the two first guys at the table broke the stunned silence and yelled out some encouragement to the young man; "Remember bro: puke and rally. Puke and rally." Laughter arose from the tables around us as The Vomiter acknowledged the suggestion with a "thumbs up" and stood up straight. He then walked, slowly at first, over to his friends who were standing in a half-circle watching him make his deposit. He raised his arms in triumph and let forth with a joyous, "Whoooooo!!!"
The sound rang of off the concrete floors and reverberated off of the far walls of the hall. Almost immediately, we heard the responsory cries of "Whooooo!!" and "Yeeeeaaaahhhh!!" from around the Beer Prison Exercise Yard and even from beyond the black curtain. The primal ceremony was repeated several times with more and more yelling from around the hall until a security team escorted our young Vomiter out of the Yard and (I presume) back into General Population.
We turned our attention back to our table-mates and made some more chitchat. We found out that radio in Seattle sucks just as much as it does in Fresno and most everywhere else. Music playing over the P.A. before the show wafted lightly through the air; strange music that sounded at times like old soft swing tunes with clarinets and other times like dreamy soundscapes created by instruments of unknown origin. Then I recognized some selections as tunes from Danny Elfman's soundtrack to Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. Wonderful, I thought. Mary is not a Pee Wee Herman fan in the least and this would not gear her up for a Primus show. I, on the other hand, saw this music as somehow fitting for Primus warm up tunes.
We got another round and started thinking about getting a place to stand out on the Exhibition Center's floor. It was getting close to 8:00 and we didn't want to be stuck in the Yard when Primus hit the stage. As we drained the last of our beers, we listened to the disembodied voice of Frank Rizzo over the P.A. The board operators were now playing a Jerky Boys CD. Again, somehow fitting.
We exited the Yard and made our way onto the floor where the earlybirds had been while we had our drinks. Instead of joining the fracas right away, we decided to look at the merchandise booth. I found a cool Primus shirt and an '04 tour poster. Mary surprised me by buying a ladies Primus shirt. It reads, "Here Come The Bastards" with the image of a blonde, screaming and recoiling like some 1950s horror flick lobby poster. Its adorable.
Most of the area in front of the stage was full of people in all sorts of concert shirt regalia. Shirts from concerts past were worn with pride and represented all genres of music. There were shirts with logos of Metallica, Pink Floyd, Grateful Dead, Phish, Yes, and Bob Marley among many others. I thought it was interesting to see fans from the "jamband" scene in such large numbers at this show. I can only surmise that its due to the fact that bassist/vocalist Les Claypool has been playing with many bands of that genre in recent years and has created some crossover interest in Primus. I never have seen Primus as appealing to the neo-hippies of the "jamband" arena. That is, until I saw this show.
We took up a spot near the soundboard and found a decent angle for Mary to see the stage from. Primus is taper-friendly and I noticed a few taping rigs in front of the board. I also noticed some costumed folks gearing up for the show.
The guy in the middle is the mosquito from the cover of the Primus EP, Miscellaneous Debris. Who the gal on the left is and why an Oompa Loompa was there, I have no clue.
The stage was bare except for 3 large white balloons that seemed about 6 feet tall. As the lights went down, they were raised above the stage and "PRIMUS" was projected onto each of them. The band took the stage and Claypool started things off with some rumbling bass riffs that eventually led into "Here Come The Bastards". Mary smiled and nodded at me. She bought the right shirt tonight.
In the time we had before the show, I looked around at the Exhibition Center and became a little concerned about the sound quality of a vacuous place like this. But my worries were soon laid to rest; it sounded surprisingly good. The sound was clear and bright, not too boomy like I expected. The vocals were a little low in the mix and if you weren't familiar with the lyrics to the tunes, I doubt you could make any out. Mary struggled with that a bit, but she got the gist of it by virtue of having to endure past Primus shows.
The band pounded away and stretched many tunes way past their studio incarnation's length. Was this Les incorporating a "jamband" sensibility to Primus' music? In the past, I'd only seen Primus do a standard show, ripping away at song after song, squeezing in as many as possible during the concert. This time, they meandered around inside of songs for awhile, sometimes making me forget what song it was that they were playing until it was reprised a few minutes later. I was really enjoying every note, but I stole a few glances over at Mary to make sure she was hanging in there. I'd gotten her this far and didn't want to lose her now. So as much as I was getting off on the show, in my mind I was thinking, "C'mon guys, move onto something my wife will dig!"
Primus featured some selections from the album, Pork Soda, which is probably my least favorite from their catalog, but they gained somewhat of a new life in my head hearing them again live. At one point, Les Claypool thanked the audience for "comin' out to the car show tonight", an obvious reference to the fact that this was a strange venue to hold a concert. I doubt most of the moshpit knuckledraggers got that one.
On the large white balloons, video images were displayed during songs. Most were of the band cavorting about in various costumes and poses. The film was sped up just a bit and skipped frames from time to time, making a bizarre effect. During the song, My Friend Fats, computer generated video of a human X-ray played and at times I thought the imagery was very TOOL-esque. On a side note: Upon first hearing My Friend Fats after buying the latest Primus EP/DVD, I thought it was reminiscent of TOOL's sound. Come to find out, Claypool has been jamming with TOOL's drummer. More outside influences rubbing off on Primus?
The first set came to a close and the word, "Intermission" was put up on each of the balloons. By this time, Mary and I had moved a bit more towards the back of the crowd, our space having been invaded by some breed of giants. They grow 'em big up there in the Northwest and neither of us could see the stage except for glimpses through bobbing heads. We didn't come all this way to see Primus a few seconds at a time between two Sasquatch, so we migrated to the rear where we could see the entire stage and the sound, while not as thumpin', was still quite good.
So when I saw "Intermission" flash on the balloons, I asked Mary if she wanted a beer during the break. I didn't really need an answer and we turned around and headed for the end of the curtain again. We heard a bunch of hoots and hollers behind us and when we looked to see what was going on, we saw a stampede heading right for us. "They're all heading for Beer Jail", Mary laughed. We were fairly close to the entrance, but we still walked briskly. People passed us by at full sprints, laughing and yelling all the while. It wasn't quite the Land Race at Ozzfest '99 (see story: Archives, April 04), but it may have been more dangerous because these crazed mutants were on concrete.
We got into the Yard and ordered up a couple of drinks. We found a bar-height table to lean on and camp out for the intermission. A couple of huge guys joined us. They had two beers each and were already pretty skunked. I decided to get us another round before the end of the break and got in line at one of the stands. Security was all over the Yard now because there were some very drunk people wandering around. My line was moving well and I had no worries about getting served before the second set started. Just then, the booth next to the one I was in line for shut down and those in that line were directed to another booth. There was a mass migration of drunks and much confusion. The security manager, who had on one of those Cape Canaveral headsets, was talking excitedly into his mouthpiece and waving at someone across the Yard.
I was second in line now and saw that this whole situation was going to get the kibosh put on it any minute. The head of security was now standing right next to me and I was watching him as beads of sweat built up on his forehead while he looked nervously from side to side. He leaned over to one very drunk young kid and cut him off. The kid protested loudly and more people chimed in. The Yard was on the brink of chaos. If there had been mattresses around, these maniacs would have set them on fire and thrown them around, just like in those Pelican Bay documentaries.
The security guy had seen enough. Just as I was stepping up to the counter to order, he leaned over my shoulder and told the vendors to shut it down. I looked at him and said, "Ah, no. C'mon man, I just got up here".
"Sorry, sir. That's it tonight", he replied.
I told him, "Y'know, I waited patiently while these kids caused all the problems here. Just one more round, huh?"
He looked at me pretty hard for a moment and asked, "How many have you had tonight?"
"Me?", I asked, putting my palm on my chest. "Two or three". I was not drunk and he knew he was dealing with an adult here.
"Alright, one more beer, but after that its shut down", he said not so much to me but to the beer vendor.
He started to walk away, so I put my hand on his elbow. "Uh, actually, I was going to get a beer for my wife too."
This time he thought I was scamming him so he said, "Okay, where's your wife?" with a hint of smartass.
"Shit, man. Are you kidding me?"
"Nope. Where is she?"
"She's way over there", I said pointing off into the far reaches of the Yard. I could see how he might think I was trying to get over on him. "I'm serious, she's right over there.
"Let's see her", he smirked.
"Let's go", I said and we walked about halfway to where Mary was standing with the huge guys at the bar table. She came into view about 50 feet away and I waved to get her attention. She caught my gaze and waved back, but with a somewhat confused smile, wondering who the hell I was standing with. I said under my breath, "That's it Honey, wave to the nice security man." I turned to find out if he was looking where I was. "See?", I asked him.
"Yeah, okay", he muttered. We started to turn to head back to the stand when he stopped dead and looked at me hard again. "Wait a minute. Whose beers are those?" He was pointing to the huge guys' four full beers on the table in front of Mary. This time one of the huge guys caught us looking at him and he waved enthusiastically with the dumbest grin I've ever seen. I laughed and said, "Naw, man. That ain't my boy. I don't even know that guy. Those are his beers, I swear." We looked back to the table and the big idiot now gave me a big "thumbs up".
"Swear to God, man", I giggled while holding my hands up in innocence.
The security guy chuckled and we walked over to the beer stand. He leaned in to the vendor and said, "Two more to this guy and no one else, alright?" The confused vendor nodded and poured me two Fat Tires. As I paid, I could hear the whiny protests of the drunks that had been left in the aftermath of the near riot. All the other stands were already shut down and when I turned to take my beer back to the table, I felt the thirsty glare of three-hundred angry drunkards.
As I approached Mary at the table, I held the beers aloft and cheered, "Last two pours in the house right here". That didn't go over too well, but Mary laughed and we sipped our treasured brew slowly to savor the victory.
Right about then, we heard the crowd roar in approval of the lights going down. The second set was starting. We could hear the show just fine through the curtain, so instead of slamming the beer, we just took our time and headed out after the first song. This time, we took up various locations around the Exhibition Center's floor, checking out different vantage points. About halfway through the second set, we settled on a spot closer to the exit doors so as to make a quick escape at the conclusion of the show.
Mary was holding up remarkably well considering the new, expansive style Primus was playing in. But a 15 minute drum solo almost did her in towards the end. Even I had to question the pacing where a drum solo comes so late in the show when you've already severely challenged your audience's attention span as it is. By the end of the second set, she was ready to go, but I protested. Traditionally, Primus would play one song for the encore. I couldn't see leaving with just one more song to go (although we did do just that at a Gov't Mule show once--Archives: April '04).
Luckily, the encore was Jerry Was A Race Car Driver, a chunky-riffed tune that is a strong fan favorite. Right as the lights came up, we made tracks for the exit doors. We beat most of the mob out. Walking back down the alley towards Pioneer Square, we hailed a cab to take us back to the hotel. As we climbed in the back seat, the Pakistani driver asked us if the Mariners won.
"Oh, we didn't go to the game", Mary said.
The driver looked confused. "No?", he asked.
"No, we were at a concert next door", I told him.
He nodded, "Oh, I see. Who was in the concert?"
"Primus", I said.
"Who?", he blurted. "Primush?"
"Uh, no. Primus", I corrected him. "They're a rock band."
"Oh, I see", he replied, smiling. "They were good, yes? Primush?"
Oh brother, I thought. This went on for a few blocks with little success. So for all the effort it took to get Mary to see Primus in Seattle, my biggest challenge was trying to explain Primus to a Pakistani cabbie.
posted by Tony at 9:02 PM
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