OK, kids. I think two and a half weeks is enough time to let the dust settle from the show and get out my two cents. You've asked, and now you're getting.

We all know the show was amazing. And yeah, I'd have to say it's the best show I've attended ever (That's saying a lot, and that's where I'm standing).

A little talk about the Crocodile Cafe before the show...

I had no idea how shows were treated at the Croc so I wanted to get there plenty early and make sure I got in comfortably and early. For those of you that don't know, the Crocodile Cafe is a regular cafe day and evening that is shut down and becomes a 21+ bar and music club after around 9pm. I think I actually walked in around seven. I took a cab over to the cafe and the driver didn't have any change at all (golly, I love Seattle) so I had to run in and get some. The driver was waiting so I was in a hurry
and a typical Jeme-style headless panic.

I ran in and asked the fellow at the counter for change... he said try the bar. I ran back to the bar... got change, and nearly sprinted out the front door to give my money to the driver. On my way through the door, I jumped to a halt about a quarter of an inch from a big yellow shirt filled with rows of oversized crayons. Yeah, I almost smacked Robyn to the ground. (Granted I only come up to the man's chest, but I had significant momentum and he was just strolling along.) I looked up and said "Oh... hi." Robyn blinked. I ran around him and paid the cabbie.

I went back up to the counter and sat by our own Karen (of the twin fegs of Portland, OR). I made the ridiculous mistake of confusing Karen with Carole (it won't happen again... it was a silly mistake). And I witnessed Karen's loss of appetite as she watched Robyn unpack T-shirts. He had three undecorated cones in his hand as he walked back into the bar.

I talked for a bit with Karen (probably needlessly pestering). I considered going up and asking Robyn for a T-shirt design for the list. I was torn between my desire for a cool, original design and my respect for our tall, musical friend's privacy. Karen and I decided to let him be.

After I bit I wandered over to the door, hanging out and waiting for the cafe to close so they'd start selling admission. I had a word with some of Robyn's entourage (who was the red haired guy again? And the what's the name of the fellow with the "Your favorite band sucks." T-shirt?). While standing by the door, an odd thing happened. Folks started showing my their ID upon entering. After two or three of this (and constant urging by the red-haired fellow), I began carefully inspecting the identification and even requesting it from those that didn't offer it upon entrance. And while others were suggesting I take seven bucks from as many as would give it, I decided that was a bad idea. Robyn fans in a
frenzy may be like gently swaying plants, but there are still plants I'd rather not have swaying across my path. Contrary to anything asserted by Al Capone, Jr., there is no larceny in me.

I have no idea where the DOB is kept on a Washington State Driver's License and I inspected no less than three different varieties of said identification that night at the Croc. I would just look at it closely, flip it over and check that there was printing on the reverse side, and hand it back. It was silly. I'm curious to see if I checked any of your cards. Did I?

While checking ID, I met several other fegs from around the area and from far off lands. Some folks seemed to remember me from San Francisco last November when I asked everyone present, individually, if they knew where I could stay the night cheaply. All in all, it was a pleasant social gathering.

Well, after a while a fellow came up and took my money and checked my ID and stamped my hand and we all moved over to the Planned Parenthood booth. Free condoms and stuff. It was a sponsorship deal. Always be kind to your sponsors.

And eventually they opened up the T-shirt/cone concession. The Viva Sea-Tac II shirts were interesting and one fellow said there was more demand for them than the show itself. Three cones were eventually brought forward. A woman near me bought one. I bought the other two. I caught hell for that. I just might be the greedy bastard Karen claims I am.

My cones are cool. One cone is El Proximo Ultimo Cone. The other is "The Twilight of the Cones". Are these the last two cones? Can anyone attest to more cones being brought forward after the original three? I'm tempted to assume, by the name and nature of these two, that they are the final cones. And yeah, Mr. Runion-to-stand-still, I'll eventually get you some pictures. Right now, though, I'm really tempted to make nifty Quicktime VR movies out of them so you can rotate the cones on your own. We'll see
what happens.

Hrrm... eventually, the show began.

Tim and Scott and the drummer fellow did Ted, Woody & Junior, as you all know. It was really good. Scott made fun of Tim's banana. They had fun. Until that point, I wasn't sure what to expect. Usually when rock greats get together outside their usual groupings, you get lots of covers due to the lack of rehearsal time most covers require. I half expected a night of Dylan, Hendrix and Beatles tunes. But as was said before, that opening piece set the tone: Viva SeaTac is a thing of Robyn Hitchcock. I was
pleased.

I've never been a big fan of Young Fresh Fellows. Never bought an album. Saw them live a few times several years ago (including opening for They Might Be Giants in Portland in maybe 1992 which seemed more because of the line in Twistin' than anything else). Their set was ok and kind of interesting. The guitarist fellow was kind of annoying (Not Scott and not the bass player man). I hate to say it, but I was pleased when it ended.

Robyn played. It was bordering mystical. I'm not a religious man, nor even a spiritual one. I was... elevated. Several solo tunes that just made me glad I wasn't anywhere else.

Tim came up and played Madonna of the Wasps and Superkeen with Robyn. They had fun and MOTW made me just a touch floaty.

Robyn played some more solo things. Beautiful Queen and Chinese Bones made me very happy. Eventually someone else came out and helped. Then another player, then another. And while the sign on the counter at the entrance to the venue stated it would be Young Fresh Fellows, Robyn Hitchcock and then Popsycle Shoppe Incident, there was only a clear line between YFF and Robyn. The rest was a slow blur.

Let's just say that the whole affair made me remember that guitar rock really CAN BE a legitimate form of expression. (ooh, I'm going to get killed for that one) There were covers I didn't recognize and thankfully few of them.

There were too many cameras! As I am led to understand, Robyn asked several people to take photos from the audience. I'm an accommodating man. I gladly let people pass through in the crowd. Pausing for a moment to take a few pictures is ok. I'm not against such things on principle. I just hate flashes. Flash photography is annoying and, in my opinion, disruptive and rude. I told someone that and they got very upset with me. She said "Robyn TOLD ME to take these pictures!" And I said "That's fine and good, it's still annoying." It was loud, there was miscommunication. If that was someone reading this, understand my viewpoint and that it was not a personal attack nor was it an effort to control your behavior. Does a flash photo bother anyone else as much as it does me?

A bald fellow that happened to be a very poor (or at least inexperienced) photographer kept trying to nudge his way into our little circle of acquaintances. After some time, he took Karen's spot. I felt personally violated.

I hate misquotes. So if someone can correct me from a verifiable source (i.e. recording), please do. But I believe "Give It To The Soft Boys" was introduced with "This one goes out to Andy, Morris and Kimberly" (in that order) in a fairly sincere voice. Robyn took a step back about to play, then paused, half-smiled and stepped back to the mic to add "let's hope it never reaches them". The song was amazing. It was the only time Peter Buck smiled that I noticed. Were there new/different verses? I don't know every variation of most Soft Boys material and am really only familiar with their four or so bigtime commercial releases, so please fill me in if you can. It seemed there were some significantly different lyrics in places. It also seemed like the annoying guitar fellow from young Fresh Fellows (the man so excited about the 40 strings used to produce Queen of Eyes) was just plain screaming during the nifty howl thing. That man bothered me.

But as was said, the set list wasn't significantly different from the rest of the tour. The band fleshed out some things and just made it a richer experience.

Robyn did act differently than when he's alone. He was happier in demeanor. He didn't play so many of the down songs. He also didn't talk so much, which disappointed me in particular.

I had a DAT machine in my hotel room after taping some meetings at Microsoft (yeah, I played off the week in Seattle as a business trip. It was grand) and didn't even THINK to bring it to the show. Same goes for the Tuesday night show at the nameless little bar. I'm still kicking myself. Next time, next time. In the meantime, who was it that's making
all those copies? Can I be queued in?

After the show, we hung out for ages waiting for the red-haired Robynfriend to get someone a T-shirt. However, he became much more interested in a young, scantily clad fangirl and paid us not the attention he promised. The woman taking flash photos that seemed so disturbed by my comments did take my name and addressed and said she'd send me copies of the photos. That was kind, but I'm not holding my breath. Eventually, we left.

The two fellows with whom I ended up spending most of my time had families or some such obligation and left. By then most had disappeared into the night. Seattle has the odd property of closing down completely at 2am. I just went back to my hotel, lay down in bed, and listened to the ringing in my ears.

Yours.
J.