Excuses, excuses, I’ll spare you most of them. Let’s just say I was really looking forward to hearing Warehouse. Twenty-five years later, ’87’s Warehouse (Husker Du’s last album) and ’89’s Workbook (Mould’s first solo record) sounded too similar to my frazzled brain to differentiate. Workbook is where I parted ways with Bob Mould. As a major fan of Husker Du, it seemed Mould was getting in touch with his inner Richard Thompson. They were tough times for music. In 1985, The Minutemen’s D. Boon had died and The Replacements fired Bob Stinson (who died 10 years later). The Replacements released their biggest disappointment Don’t Tell a Soul in 1989.
Despite my own bullshit, Workbook sounded great at the Great American Music Hall on Thursday night, and there was some Husker Du and even a little Sugar (“If I Can’t Change Your Mind”). The band was a three piece, with Mould on guitar plus electric bass and cello. Drums would have been nice. Mould said little but played a long, sweaty set. The sold out room could have fit a lot more fans if they hadn’t set up so many friggin’ tables. House security was a drag, insisting everyone remain seated (even between sets!?). The doorman asked if my camera lens was detachable. I explained that I could not detach it, not without a manual of some sort. Later I was approached and told there was no professional photography allowed. I assured him I was not professional.
Alright, alright, this was not the evening I expected. I will wait for the 35th anniversary of New Day Rising and Zen Arcade. I will leave my camera at home, and there better not be any tables or we will smash them to bits!
Zach Rogue was simply charming and I never, ever use that word. It didn’t hurt that his six-month old son was at the front table. Zach joked that he might have to get off stage for a minute to change a diaper. He played a song for insomniacs and dedicated another tune to his daughter sleeping at home. Zach pointed out the one and only ‘bar mitzvah moment’ where his voice cracked, saying “the Jews in the house know what I am talking about.” He closed the show with the other fave Minneapolis rockers, The Replacements, covering “Achin’ To Be.”
A few hours before the show, I discovered that Jon Ginoli was the leader of seminal queercore band Pansy Division. Pansy Division formed in 1991 and play very rarely now. Foolishly, I never got to see them back in the day. Maybe it was subclinical homophobia. Anyway I was ready now. I watched some YouTube of Jon singing in a bookstore about his love of cocks with curvature. I watched another where he was interviewed on his back, in the grass of Dolores Park.
I really wanted to see him. I arrived on time at 8, but stood in line outside for 20 minutes and by the time I entered the building, his set was over. I did pick up a copy of his 2009 book, Deflowered: My Life in Pansy Division. If you have any interest in queercore, I suggest you do the same. Buy it here!