Battle of the Bands

Tim Arceneaux.

He sold tokens at the gameroom attached to the Hoover Square Six theater where I worked. Well, to customers he sold tokens...he gave us tokens. Maybe it was a perk he got when he got promoted to assistant game room manager his senior year. I got promoted to assistant projectionist about the same time. It was a power-based friendship.

My favorite memory of Tim, who I NEVER saw anywhere outside the gameroom, was when we helped break up a fight in the parking lot and the off-duty officer said, "Thanks, guys. Maybe I should make you two deputies or something." To which Tim replied, "Could you? Because then we could get into the wrestling matches at Boutwell and I could see Pork Chop Cash in person. Pork Chop! Whoop Whoop! Pork Chop! Hey!" (which was apparently the chant wrestling crowds used to spur Pork Chop to victory) as he walked back into the game room. Officer Fields looked at me and we both just shrugged our shoulders.

At any rate, Tim also was the king of new music discovery. Since I love music, too, we would often chat about new bands we heard (which was MUCH different when you only had radio to find it)--and he was usually deeper in the know on such things because he had an older sibling away at college. There's an art to the mix tape and Tim mastered it.

I got him into R.E.M., who I heard play at Six Flags Over Georgia my senior year. He introduced me to Black Flag, Social Distortion and The Violent Femmes. It's pretty obvious that I got the better end of the trade.

Anyway, it was the kind of thing where we'd amuse each other with tales of trying to introduce our friends to that stuff. Most of the time we'd say, "I played it in the car and it lasted about 10 seconds before my friends said, 'This is CRAP.' and then ejected it." Such was life among suburban pseudo punk listeners in Alabama circa 1983.

But I always loved finding a band, getting into them & recognizing that they were a really good band before anybody else and then spreading the gospel of the really good band, even among dissenters and their consternation.

My daughter has picked up the habit.

She has gotten into a band called Bullets and Octane, who opened for Social Distortion in October. The name really does define them...kind of like when you hear the band name "Motorhead" you pretty much know what you're in for. She's in their fan club on MySpace: The Bullet Brigade. They send her stickers--which she's supposed to give to friends. Suffice to say that I don't think they know she's in 8th grade because if she handed out the stickers it'd likely result in some sort of disciplinary action from the school. Like I said, their name is Bullets and Octane. You know what you're getting.

Well, the Bullet Brigade sent her notice that they're back in Dallas opening for The Panic Channel at the Gypsy Tea Room tonight. So, ummm, yeah. We're in. To see the opening act.

But there's a band playing a FREE concert across town that I'd really like to introduce her to. Their songs would be on any mix-tape music sampler I'd make to get folks into good music:

The Violent Femmes.

Dangit.

A father's love for his daughter has few limits.