FanboyGeekTransmentalPayDirt

In the presence of The Church
at Foxborough's Showplace Live.
Weird to see this show flashed
as an in-house ad before the movies last week
(gee, what tie-in cinemaplex would that be?).
A bit of cultish, bubbling cauldron
in stripmall suburbia.
Much like this show.
The venue's exquisite.
I'm in the world's nattiest home-entertainment center.
They let us out of work early,
and even though I putter 'round there for an hour,
internetting...
and get stalled in the pre-holiday snarl of SE-XWay...
I walk in the venue door just after 6PM.
This is my night out,
my Christmas in July.
I go immediately to the merch table & buy $40 worth
of audio karma.
Oh Painkiller. I have you!
Is there a better opening track than "Outbound", I ask you?
Well, besides "Block"...

I sit at the well-lit bar & look properly wordly & chic...
I order a salad & Coors Light.
See?
How smooth is that?
Does anyone do Caesar Wedge as debonair as me?

The show is part of the summer's 80's-themed "Left Over Lunch"
a certain Lynn-based radio station is sponsoring.
Now don't get me wrong,
I love all things "Heyday" & "Starfish"...
but what the band's done since "Holgram of Baal"...
they are off the map.
Consistent caramel & dark chocolate
& purple liquors
& burnt brick textures.
Sudden thunder on the heat-stricken beach.
They are far from ra-ra synth & nostalgia.
But has this radio station played anything current?
"Ripple" was the last single I remember bearing W-F-N-X.
Our pre-show host is a soccer mom now,
aged & formless in an untucked shirt.
She & the street crew seem to have a friendly repertoire
with the audience.
Handing out beer glasses & trivia questions.
Even free tickets to a tattoo convention.
The night's audience is slowly but surely
making their way in.
Finding their seats & dinners (it is dinner theatre).
And who are these Aussie prog fans?
For the most part they look like me.
White & balding & nebbish.
Although I have the tummy,
I am puny compared to see of these IT monstrosities,
big-bellied nincompoops.
Flabby from their 20's & marriage & unfulfilled expectations.
But I'm sure they get paid quite well.
$200 spent tonight on food & booze
is just another night out.
No rationing the wallet for merch.
And no hotties either.
The first couple I wandered in behind was it,
the girl fiery red hair & inked arms.
The gentlemen well-bred & full head.
Any other women I see...
are unexceptional inkblots without interpretation.
Swaying Plain Janes away from the kids.

Adam Franklin opens.
I'm riveted by the drummer,
not quite sure if it is male...
or homely, bulgy female
(later on as band smokes by greenroom exit door
I get bead on the sex).
They are really good.
I particularly like the last languid song,
a summer afternoon watching teenagers play basketball,
holding hands with the girlfriend.
Slightly buzzed or drunk or congested, not sure which.

I see two old acquaintances of mine enter club,
say hello.
One of whom is ex-singer of another band I almost
shot a music video for.
Both her & her husband are now Boston music scene retired.
I later sit with them at their booth,
waiting 'til they've finished their dinner & opening salvo
martini's.
It's good to see them,
hadn't realized how lonely I was...how friendless.
And although my roots w/ singer go back to UMass Amherst
(some other distant story)
& although I hadn't see 'em for nearly two years,
it's pleasant just sitting there & shooting the breeze.
Nothing too intensive,
just talk & company.

The Church take the stage & I manage to stay put for
all of two songs.
I have to get up, I have to lip sync & show-off.
I can't merely sit & sway.
I make my apologizes & find a spot by the camera guy.
I'm sure he's thrilled that some dum-dum
is right there rocking out.
So much for the Steadi-Cam, eh?
The show takes off big-time w/ the most extended of instrumental bridges
somewhere around the 7 minute mark of "You Took..."
Good God, how good it is.
SO GOOD!
Endless passageways & labryniths swirl on the rear projection behind band.
How does Peter stay so grounded & mild,
generating that sound?
Marty of course is another story,
he now looks like a Grizzly Adams wildman
or fickle pirate with metal teeth.
The things he does with that guitar
and that guitar
and that one over there...
holy mackeral.
Tim pounding away
& Steve the cad. The wry showman. The primer paint,
holding all those colors together.
I am at ease for the first time in years,
I am transported back to Manray in my 20's,
lost in the music.
I am in a retal van in the Brooklyn Navy Yard,
keeping my focus w/ just the talisman
of my rickety CD Walkman.
Music.
Always music.
If I ever have therapy...music will be intregal.

Ah, but what is there to say after that?
They play for over an hour and a half,
and although I yell out "Achorage" for both encores,
it ain't happening.
And although I meet Steve afterwards @ merch table,
& he signs a couple of my new purchases,
he very succinctly replies the band is done w/ music videos.
So much for one little boy's wish fulfillment, huh?
So much for that.

It is a misty foggy sauna world outside,
I am transitioning back to daily life.
I am tired & I sleep most of this morning,
after confirming via E-M that editing is slated tonight.
The sun is out as I write this from the coffeeshop.
I wish I could continue last night
& roadtrip to Londonderry gig.
But nope. What makes the special,
is the infrequency of it.
The far and few in between's I know so well.

And that is my report, dear sirs & madams.