1982 by Jian Ghomeshi Read Free Book Online Page B

Murray would go on to be an excellent bass player. But back then we were confined to the guitar-playing roles for Murray and Rob. Two decades before the Black Keys and the White Stripes, the Wingnuts were unwittingly the first band to feature only a drummer and electric guitars. The big difference was that we really didn’t sound very appealing. But Roxy Anslow and another girl from Mr. Mackian’s class named Katie made Wingnuts T-shirts and wore them to our gig. We only ever played one gig. That didn’t matter. It was a big one at the school gym towards the end of Grade 8. And we had girls wearing T-shirts with the name of our band on them.
    Murray was really not very New Wave in junior high and Grade 9. He had nice blond hair that was parted in the middle and he wore large, white-ish running shoes and shorts and athletic socks. But Murray was a bit taller than me and he had older brothers, so he was less timid around the tough punks. Murray’s mom made really good chili, and lots of kids made regular trips to Murray’s house to have some of his mom’s chili. She seemed to always have chili ready. Murray’s house became known for his mom’s chili. Murray was well liked, but his mom’s chili made him even more popular.
    Murray and I started accumulating our concert credentials by going to as many shows as we could afford. We saw New Order one night, the Jam a few weeks later, and then the punk female-led British band Siouxsie and the Banshees. Siouxsie and the Banshees were getting a lot of spins amongst the coolest New Wave occupants of the theatre room at school. Their song “Happy House” had become an anthem for some of my sister’s friends in Grade 12. I had a sense that Wendywas probably a big fan of Siouxsie and the Banshees. This was an important concert to attend.
    Not surprisingly, the Siouxsie and the Banshees show was a particularly challenging affair. Murray and I were clearly the youngest kids there. In retrospect, we were probably the only kids there. Siouxsie and the Banshees had dark lighting and ripped clothing and everyone in the audience was crammed close to the stage and smoking. The Siouxsie and the Banshees drummer’s name was Budgie. It was cool to have a name like Budgie. Everything about Siouxsie and the Banshees was cool.
    The last song Siouxsie played was called “Arabian Knights,” from their album Juju . It’s a goth-ish, New Romantic classic. It features a catchy chorus refrain that repeats the line “I heard a rumour.” Then, after Siouxsie sings about hearing a rumour a few times in each chorus, she refers to a girl and asks what has been done to her.
    That night, Siouxsie had been onstage for only about forty-five minutes when she decided to end the show after that song. I wasn’t sure why. I concluded that playing for only forty-five minutes was what real New Wave artists with integrity did. But Siouxsie didn’t seem very happy with things. As I remember, while Siouxsie was walking offstage, she sneered into the microphone and said, “Yeah, I heard a rumour. I heard a rumour that we played here tonight. We didn’t. Fuck off!”
    Siouxsie had screamed that last part into the mic. It seemed quite antagonistic. But a funny thing happened when Siouxsie told us all to fuck off. The crowd cheered in appreciation. I started to cheer, too, because all the older punks in their twenties were doing it. But it didn’t seem like a very nice sentiment. In fact, it seemed like the opposite of what you’resupposed to do when you’re saying goodnight to an audience that’s paid hard-earned money to see you play.
    We’d never thought of telling people to fuck off when we did our Wingnuts gig at the junior-high gym in Grade 8. And Dan Hill hadn’t told us to fuck off at his concert the year before. The Dan Hill. He had been onstage for at least seventy-five minutes longer than Siouxsie.
    But Siouxsie was cool. And she wore a lot of eyeliner. I probably could’ve worn purple eyeliner