30 years ago my ears were bludgeoned in a rickety pickup. Actually – only 1 ear was. The right one. Literally, not metaphorically. For almost 9o minutes. And I hated every one of those minutes, Suffering silently squished up against the passenger side window from Peterborough to Manchester. And back. A year later I’d witness the event that a Jane’s show was – in a hockey rink in the town I grew up in of all places.
Way back in 1998 I was a Freshman at Contoocook Valley Regional High School – ConVal – Peterborough, NH. I would jam out in my room with Nate – a good-natured, soft-spoken guy who was one of my only few friends. And the only one I knew who played an instrument besides drums. He’d come over and we’d put on hair metal. Kix. The Crue’s “Too fast For Love.” Warrant – and wonder where DID the Down Boys go? And what the hell WAS a Down Boy? I remember he liked Metallica. I didn’t. Still don’t actually. But we didn’t have any big musical plans. We just happened to be two semi-loners that liked tunes and I had a CD player. Our musical tastes were pretty limited back then. But the hang sessions kept my interest in drumming alive.
In 1999 I met Marc Collard when I moved to Greenfield, NH. Truly one of the nicest people I’ve had the good fortune to know. He, his sister and folks lived about a mile down from me. The street we lived on was a microcosm of sociey. Our house was at one end. As the road wound on, the houses grew larger and more ornate for the 90s in small town NH. The prior governor lived on our road. A distinction we would come to know when one Michael J Fox almost bought the Governor’s house. he didn’t – but the town glommed onto his appearance with all it’s marketing might. A bit further down was a home belonging to a Dr that we would do landscaping work for in the summer. Well we were supposed towork. mainly we just drove my car onto his yard and spent afternoons installing a cheap ass Kenwood CD player and some Realistic home speakers. Marc always wanted us to work. He’d gotten us the job as he had done work for the good Dr. before and put in a good word. Poor guy – he was doomed by our lazy teenage work ethic. I’ll never forget hearing the sound of the Dr’s Mercedes coming up his long, windy driveway early one day. My head was buried under the dash of my Toyota Celica trying to sort the spaghetti wiring. Another guy was running the speaker wires to the home speakers that would be the bass rig. We sprang up, dropped whatever we had and grabbed the nearest rake or leaf bag. We thought we’d made it. “What you boys doing? Looks like you running from a swarm of bees”. We weren’t asked back much after that. Sorry Marc. You tried.
Marc and his family were a bit hippie-ish. Wonderfully nice people who opened their home to me over the years. I still picture their kitchen and how just being in it made me feel like that’s what a home is supposed to be. Marc also played the bass. Not astonishingly well mind you. But he did. And more significantly, he owned one. And we could jam in his garage. At one point we jammed with someone who had jammed with Leslie West of Mountain. Or maybe it was someone who had jammed with someone who had jammed with Leslie. I forget to be honest. But I remember it how I want to. Anyway, Marc was into all this weird stuff. The Pixies. Joni Mitchell. REM. Camper van Beethoven. The Cure. Nothing rock-minded at all. Except for Jane’s Addiction. I wasn’t impressed. I had Ratt. Ratt had chicks. I wanted chicks. The Cure seemed to just want sadness…
But our musical connection kept me wanting to play the drums more. So at our Jr year Battle of the Bands i got there early to check it out. A local band that was a cross between U2 and blighty pop was the overall favorite. They won of course. I hated them. And I was jealous. But that’s not what I really remember.
This long-haired guy in tight leopard pants rolled in carrying lots of gear. He looked like he was a rock star. Totally out of place at our High School sponsored by REI and LL Bean. But there he was. Paul the bassist. Then Mike came in. Long blond hair and a guitar. They were doing soundcheck and they played Skid Row. i was hooked. The drummer broke a snare head. Since I lived only a few minutes away and had this kick ass car/home stereo I wanted to blast, I offered to run the drummer to my house and grab my snare for him to use.
By the time I got back they were almost ready to go on. At one point while they were playing “Youth Gone Wild” the drummer went for a fill – and missed, turning the beat completely around with the bass drum landing where the backbeat should have been. Paul swung around and glared death rays at the drummer – I’ll never forget that look. Eventually they finished, packed up their gear and didn’t hang around to wait for the show’s results.
A few weeks after the Drummer Gone Wild show, I got a phone call. It was Paul asking me if I’d like to audition as they’d kicked the drummer out. I was 16. these guys were older. Paul and Mike were very good players and very serious about their craft. They had their OWN songs even. And liked some band called Queensryche. “Just listen to their drummer all the time” Paul said. “Just do what he does.” These guys were in College. Keene State. I went up to party with them one time. They fed me placebo drinks. I thought i was drunk but there was no alcohol in them. They’d promised my dad and they kept their word. it didn’t matter. I was at a college dorm with these cool guys and there were girls. Mike’s girlfriend Kim was very sweet and super cute. Sorry Mike lol. I had a crush on her. So when Mike called to ask me if I wanted to go with him and Kim to Daddy’s Junky Music in Manchester to hunt for some gear, i was in.
They showed up in Mike’s little Toyota pickup. In the 90’s, pickup trucks were as bare-boned as it got. A bench seat. Stick shift in the middle. Pure function, no form. So when I jumped in there was no real room. Mike drove. Kim of course sat next to him with the shifter between her legs. I cozied up to the passenger window as tightly as I could, avoiding being anywhere near Kim and totally afraid to rub up on her right leg and getting kicked out of the band I’d just joined for hitting on the guitarist’s girlfriend. I was insanely shy and completely void of any confidence. So i hugged the armrest with everything I had and pressed my head into the glass as far as I could.
Mike’s truck also had a homemade speaker setup. Evidently that was the thing in the 90s. His was more like the ones you’d find at a drive-in theater. Not visually, just how it was tinny and trebly sounding. Those speakers don’t sound great to begin with. But when cranked they really lose any pleasantness at all. This one was strategically aimed directly into my right ear. The other speaker was behind Mike, blocked by him and Kim so I’d only get 1/2 of whatever was coming through. If the sound was Stereo I got Mono. He was excited to play this new band he’d heard: Jane’s Addiction. i remembered Marc liked them. And that I didn’t from what little he’d played for me. But of course I said to play it. I had to. I was IN THE BAND MAN. Plus ya know, the girl was there and all. And so he did. Full volume. The entire way down and back. One album. Actually half an album. At full volume. In one ear. A very long ride.