Detroit and Columbus:
Two Tuesdays
October 5 & 12, 2004
By Jackdaw
The legendary Harriet, Little Red Zippy Car, needs a new transmission; she won't stay in fifth
gear unless you hold the shift lever in place the entire time, which is rather tiring, not to
mention scary. She vaporizes oil, and makes odd ticking noises when accelerating. And she's
rusty enough that you can see a bit of the trunk liner peeping through a hole in the rear
fender. Were we going to be dumb enough to risk getting stranded in the wilds of Michigan,
or downtown Detroit, just to go see a rokenrol show?
Well, duh, of course we were! We hadn't seen the Red Elvises for an entire year, and
perhaps we'll never again see more than one or two shows a year, thanks to the chilly and
unpredictable Midwestern spring, their dislike of cold weather, and that minor but frightening
spin-out and accident they had in Pennsylvania in April, 2003. Times are tight, Comrade
Lennon is laid off from his union job, and we can't afford to go redheading around the country
like we used to. But if the band is playing near enough that we can go to a show and come
home the same night, we're definitely going to go see them.
A few days before the Detroit show, I updated Harriet's tattoos, the list of her travels to
RE shows that's painted on her hood, driver's side front fender, and engine hatch cover. On
Monday night, I dyed the blonde portion of my hair Nuclear Red again. On Tuesday afternoon, I
packed the Pencil Fairy bag with pencils and Atomic Fireball cinnamon candies and printed out
the MapQuest directions to the club, Alvin's, which is just down the street from the Old
Miami, which was the very first place we'd ever seen the Red Elvises perform live, 'way back
in July, 2000. As the sun began to set, we hit the road.
We arrived at the club just as the guys were unloading the new Big Red Van; hugs all
around, glad you could make it, etc. Wait a minute, where's Schramm? "He had to go do
something, left this morning, so tonight we're Russian Power Trio!" Aw, he's gonna be back
by next week, though? Okay, then. Let's get this stuff inside, before we all freeze to
death.
For anyone who's been scrutinizing the photos from earlier in this tour and wondering,
"Who's that new drummer?" let me tell you, that really is Adam, minus his beard and several
pounds. Even up close and personal, the change is amazing, and he looks like he's about 17.
But he still hits the drums real hard, so no worries.
I hadn't gotten ten feet inside the door when Igor asked me, "Hey, will you sell stuff for
us?" Damn, I'd been afraid of that, because I sorta just wanted to kick back and enjoy the
show, but what the hell, I don't really like being up in the crush at the front, and I can
actually hear better from the back of the club. I'd be able to see the stage if I moved a
few feet from the merch table, okay, I'll do it. But I couldn't resist giving Igor a bit of
a hard time, "What, I haven't seen you guys in a year, and you want me to work?" He had the
grace to look sheepish about it....
The Detroit show came about thanks to a group of folks called SPAG, check out their
website at www.spagdetroit.com. The Koffin Kats, a psychobilly band, opened
the show, and then there was a marvelous burlesque interlude by the lovely and talented
amateur ecdysiasts (strippers) The Spagettes, who took it off, but not all off. The crowd
was good, for a Tuesday, and many of the folks in the audience had dressed in some sort of
finery or costume, including an udderly delightful young woman sporting a spotted Mad Cow
costume.
At last, Red Elvises!
They opened with Love Pipe, and I know they played Gypsy Heart, Love
Rocket, and Bellydance (the Spagettes resumed the stage to help out with that number, with
spectacular results). I was surprised to hear Flaming Cheese, without the lyrics, and the end
of that tune wandered into what I can only describe as.....hmmm, bizarre territory. But it's
surprising how many people will come up to look at the merchandise during the show, so I was a
bit distracted. Oh, yeah, Strip Joint is Closed went over big, too.
It turned out to be a one-long-set show; I hadn't realised that it was so late, because
the usual Red Elvises time distortion, "How can it be late when I'm having so much fun?" was
in full effect. Still, we had a hundred miles to go before we could sleep, so after
autographs, lots of hugs, and generous compensation for handling the sales (thank you, Igor!)
we called boots and saddles, and headed home tired and happy.
Harriet made it home from Detroit, good girl that she is, so we decided to go ahead and
push our luck and try for the Columbus show a week later. This time, at least for the drive
down, we had a companion vehicle because our pal Shawn, who'd seen the guys when they played
in North Baltimore last year, along with Don and Gary, two RE "virgins," were road-tripping
with us. I gave them all tiny magnetic red strobe lights to stick on their clothes, which
make it easy to find your friends in a dark bar.
Little Brother's in Columbus, like Alvin's in Detroit, like myriad other long-established
clubs in old brick buildings, is tall, skinny, and deep; the dark paint on the walls makes the
seating area and dance floor a room of gloom, but that's usually a mercy.
Ignore the ceiling, and don't even think about the floor, but take time to appreciate the large mural of Elvis,
dead and wearing bunny slippers. There were about two dozen people in the place when our
group got there, so I had time to pass out some Red Elvises pencils.
Adam was in the back room, but the other guys, including Schramm this time, had stepped
out for a bite to eat. I'd been Merch Bitch when the RE played there last October, so, with
help from Comrade Lennon, I had the table set up by the time they got back from supper. Oh,
no! I forgot my flashlight! And Harriet's flashlight has dead batteries! Quick, Honey, go
buy me some D-cells! You'd think the guys would have a flashlight somewhere in the merch
suitcases, but noooo..... and trying to read size labels in the shadows under the table just
wasn't gonna happen.
The opening band was Poop House Reilly, cowboy hats and humorous lyrics, with parental
advisory stickers on the CDs. Columbus is a big college town, but Tuesday isn't much of a
party night, and the place never got close to crowded. This left room for Shawn, in
mustard-yellow nylon pants and a Red Elvises bowling shirt, to do his happy dance. Somewhere
along the way, our pal Michael, who is going to school at Ohio State U, showed up because he'd
seen the show advertised. I gave him a blinky light, and for the rest of the evening, I could
see the stage, which was well-lit, and five blinking red lights in the gloom.
Bellydance, Sad Cowboy Song, Flaming Cheese again (which sounded much better with Schramm's
keyboard added in), two sets, and eventually a call for requests. CL and I hollered "Kegga
Beer!" and they obliged, but, as seems to have become standard ops, they left off the third
verse, which is what makes the song so cool, in our opinion. Juliet, as always, was a
crowd-pleaser.
Although the crowd was smaller, sales were better (by my rough count) than in Detroit; they
might have been better still, if the CDs were $10 instead of $15, and if they hadn't been
sold out of Surfing in Siberia, Double Live, and Shake Your Pelvis. Also, no bumperstickers
or stickers of any kind (and many people asked me about them), and the fact that some T-shirts
are front-and-back printed, but others are only front.... or that the large tank tops have the
star logo, but the small and mediums have Comrade Elvis. I know they have a new van to pay
for, but the opening act was selling CDs for $9, and stickers for $1; from a consumer's
perspective, this makes a difference.
Ah, well. Just before we left for Columbus, hubby had word that his newest grandchild, his
son's first kid, had just been born. Within twelve hours of her birth, I'd collected her
first RE autographs, on one of the mini-posters of the current line-up. All the virgins (now
converts) collected autographs, and the guys were sweet about signing, as always. There was
some silliness with hats. At the end of the night, as I admonished Igor, "You'd better come
north next spring!" he just said, "We'll see." I wasn't wearing a coat, but he had his
balaklava and stocking cap on, and his jacket zipped up to the throat. Midwestern fans, don't
hold your breath. Hugs all around, buh-bye!
After getting home at 4:00 AM, we were knackered the next day, but made a long drive to see
the new baby, and congratulate her parents. We stuck her poster against the side of her clear
plastic basinette, because you're never too young to be a Red Elvises fan. It was all a good
time; Harriet got us there and back again, but she's still waiting for her transplant.
Meanwhile, she has two new tattoos, for 2004. Red On.
For larger size versions of any of the photos used in this article, check out the "Photos"
section in this issue!
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