Romm, Davy Rothbart, Steve Almond, Jon Raymond, and Sean Wilsey.
Jeffrey Yamaguchi is one big reason this book exists, especially at Harper Perennial. A couple years ago, he introduced me to Carrie Kania, Amy Baker, and others at the New York office and he told them to pay attention to me, to keep me on their radar. Thanks for that push, Jeffrey. Your kindness cannot be measured.
For my agent, Michael Murphy, and my editor, Michael Signorelli—two men who were always encouraging at the right times and endlessly understanding. For Gregory Henry, Jim Hankey, and the others who help bring this book to readers.
For Barb Klansnic, you’ve kept me going during the hardest and most confusing times and you’ve elevated my happiness during exciting times. I’m lucky to have you, and I love sharing my life with you.
P.S. Insights, Interviews & More…
About the author
My So-Called Real Bands
About the book
Visual Aids
Read on
Future Tense Books: A Timeline of My Micropress
About the Author
My So-Called Real Bands
ALTHOUGH MY DREAM of being a famous DJ or pop star never came true, at least I did get to enjoy some time in a few “real bands.” Here’s the short list.
Drill: Drill consisted of two or three friends who would make noise behind me when I started to do spoken-word performances in Spokane in 1990.
The Girl Scout Cookies: My friend Vince from Drill decided we should try some rehearsed songs instead of just doing improv behind my poems and rants. We stole drum beats from hip hop instrumentals that Vince played guitar riffs over. We played two shows in Spokane before I moved to Arkansas in 1991.
Love Jerk: In Fort Smith, Arkansas, I became friends with two rocker kids from the local high school, and we formed a three-piece rock band. This was happening at the same time that Nirvana was hitting it big, and I was able to turn these guys on to other bands like Beat Happening and Teenage Fan Club. Phillip slashed around on his guitar, Jason pounded his drums hard (he was still into Metallica), and I tried to sing. We had one song that was an ode to Florence Henderson. We played two shows before I moved away.
Moon Boots: I reunited with Vince a couple of years later in Portland, and we decided to do a two-man band.
I played a minimalist drum kit like Moe Tucker, and he played electric guitar and sang. We played three really fun shows with actual bands that I liked, but Vince stopped smoking pot and decided that he wasn’t interested anymore.
God’s Favorite Pussy: This was more of a cabaret act. Five hot Portland females lip- synching to classic hits while in full costume (wigs, roller skates, Viking outfits, etc.). I was a “go-go dancer” for them. On the night that GFP opened for Deee-Lite in Portland, I stayed home tending to the early birth of my son.
“We played three really fun shows with actual bands that I liked, but Vince stopped smoking pot and decided that he wasn’t interested anymore.”
Visual Aids
HERE ARE PHOTOS and artifacts of some of the people and places that show up through the book:
This is a photo of our family home on Washington Street. I think the pillars on the front porch make it look more fancy that it really was.
Both of these photos are of Elinda, first as a little girl (probably around 1950) and the other when she was thirty-six
Matt towing me along in something that looks kind of dangerous. I’m always a little surprised when I see photos of me at this age because I look really chubby.
Dad when he was younger. I always thought he looked a little bit like Woody Allen. (Photo partially burned in fire.)
Me with my friend Todd playing air guitar with crutches.
Matt with the big teenage ’fro.
Two photos of Mom, first as a beautiful young woman in the ’40s and the other reading
When I was home for Dad’s funeral, I found a couple of photos of our house on fire. It was so odd to find these. They almost look fake. Notice the early-’70s ambulance and the gawkers.
My dog Scooter at ten months old. Note the Cardinals sticker on the door.
Matt with his awesome green Kawasaki bike. He was the envy of the neighborhood.
A photo of the ceiling as we began installing it. This would become my favorite hiding place for porn.
This is one of those photos you find twenty years later and say,
These are liner notes from a Neon Vomit cassette. I still have the tape if anyone wants to hear it.
Random note I found in one of Dad’s boxes after the funeral. It reads:
Me (left), Stephen (middle), and Vince (right) on the Oregon coast. A pit stop on our drive to Arkansas.
