This was lost by the Blogger outage of '11 but has now been returned and reposted for 'historiograpic' reasons.
Finn Cohen's first show with the White Octave was at the Local 506. The day seemed like any other day and he had little reason to suspect that his musical life was about to change in the most profound way possible. Not because he was going to play his first show as guitarist in a semi-popular local band. Let's be honest: That shit doesn't make any difference. The White Octave were good, but there are lots of good bands in this world.
No, Finn's musical future was about to be altered because that was the day he met me.
After V. Sirin played, Finn approached me and said, "Hey, you all were really good."
"Eh, everyone says that after you play, even if you don't mean it."
"No, but I do. I liked your stuff."
"Oh, I am sure you did."
"No, really man."
"WHY ARE YOU GASLIGHTING ME!"
A few months later we were all out for my bachelor party and Finn knocked over every trash can on Franklin Street. This was after we'd failed in our attempt to be kicked out of Top of the Hill. "Why does everyone want us so bad," Matt screamed, shaking his fists at God. A police officer approached us with some gentle critiques of our behavior. I grabbed Finn and said, "Please, sir, don't take my friend to jail!" and then ran down the street setting right what had been set wrong.
Later, we picked up a girl at a rave and broke into a pool after Eric stole a sign from an apartment building. I am sure the statute has run on all of this, but the less said, the better.
After V. Sirin broke up, I called Finn on the telephone, which I don't usually do, and asked him to play bass in the new band. I thought this might be a tough sell as no one wants to be the bass player.
"Sure!" he said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, I like your songs."
"Okay, I guess I believe you now."
"Yeah, that song on the NE v. NC comp is really great. I sounds like 'Muskrat Love.'"
"WHY ARE YOU GASLIGHTING ME!"
However, Finn's life was still not totally complete. He'd still not yet met a gentleman that I knew from volunteering at the shelter downtown, a man that would become his closest collaborator and musical confidant and life coach. This fellow went by the name of Silk Nogg, a name he got off a carton of soy based holiday drink that he found in the garbage one day while rummaging. Finn made the mistake of giving Mr. Nogg his phone number. Unlike me, Mr. Nogg has no fear of using the telephone and leaving long, emotionally troubled messages for Finn.
"I feel like my life is complete now," Finn once told me when we were laying out by the pool. "I just feel happy. Listen to this new message I got."
All I heard was bellowing and something about shampoo. My stomach turned and I gazed off at the sparkling surface of the still water.
2 comments:
this is actually not accurate. i was never called on the phone. i got a fax.
Ima tell Steve you said that about TWO.
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