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Old 11th December 2002
Lives for gear
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My brother took me to my first concert when I was 13, Black Flag and the Meat puppets. We drove up to the Greystone in Detroit from our suburb of Toledo. Rat sound had their RAT-1 boxes packed in there floor to ceiling, wall to wall drivers. There was no A/C, the volume was pummeling you, the air was thick with condensed sweat and smelled of clove cigarettes. I stood by the bar to stay clear of the punishing PA. One of the crew picked up a syringe from the floor, set it on the counter saying "somebody's having a good time.." Everyone in the place was in leather or fatigues or combat boots, so he takes one look at me in my Toledo team jacket and says "you sure you're supposed to be in here?"
That was the defining moment for me. It was a life of playing in bands and running PAs from there on out. On high school career day I visited a studio and listened to a lecture from the mulleted manager. Leaving, I vowed to never work for a studio. A year later I was subletting his B room to make dirty little alternative records for no money. Then one day I get a call that the band we're opening for next month is pulling out because they've got the number one song in the country. WTF? From there on, I was a part of the "business" like it or not. People were willing to pay me for what I used to do for free, simply because now it was comercially viable. And so it went...