Velouria

Pixies

Bianca requested “Velouria” by the Pixies. I’m more than happy to spin this number for that cute number. As the band bounds down the rocks in this we’re-not-making-a-video video, I have time to tell the story of how I first came to hear the Pixies.

Fair warning: at the end of this story, you are going to think I must be very old indeed.

Some friends of mine from back home were booked to play in New York at CBGB’s. This was a huge event within my circle of friends—one of our bands was making it! At the time, I lived in Washington, DC. My friends drove their van to my tiny place. We stayed up until the wee hours drinking beer and listening to T Rex, and then they camped on my floor. The next day, we all drove up to Manhattan. I was on board as a roadie.

My friends kicked ass. After the show, we drank free beer from a cooler, sitting on old car seats in the tiny, graffiti-strewn closet that passed for “back stage.” A few other musicians came by to drop a few kind words and collect a few warm beers.

We went back to watch the next bands. We knew another band, and cheered them on.

Then came this band from Boston we had never heard. Fuck, were they amazing. Loud as shit, smart, fun, melodic and holy cow, a cute girl on bass. The lead guitarist was damned hot, too. We went back stage afterwards and drank their warm beer. The Pixies rocked and they were perfectly nice. We all went outside to get some air.

Parked outside was a tour bus whose destination sign read “Nowhere.” A few long-haired guys stumbled from the Gallery next door. We realized they were the band that had played an acoustic set at the adjacent venue that night.

The guys went to the bus and stopped at the door. A photographer came out and ushered forward some girls with permed blond hair, teased high. Each guy took a girl under his arm. One of guys was wearing a top hat. He swigged from a bottle of Jack Daniels as the photographer snapped.

We watched, laughing at the rock n’ roll charade these fellows put forward.

“Fucking poseurs,” Black Francis said as the band pushed one another onto the bus. We ventured over to the Gallery to look at the flyer for that night.

“Awesome band name, dudes,” I mocked.

Who the fuck calls a band "Guns N’ Roses?"