“I like rock and roll, and I don’t like much else.” — John Lennon
I get bored a lot in my house on the hill, stuck up here day after day all alone like Rapunzel but with kids and shorter hair and married not just sleeping with the prince, who because of that, is not so desperate to get me down. Schopenhauer said “Life swings like a pendulum back and forth between pain and boredom.” Great.
Anyway, there are these girls in town who started a band, just like that, and they played Saturday night open mic, their first gig. Shannon, the drummer, owns the coffee shop across from my office. Julie Nipp, the woman I trade carpools with, is on vocals, and some long-haired, heavy-lidded 10-year-old (seriously) plays base — this kid oozes cool, the kind you get from 20 years playing smoky gin-soaked joints on the road. There’s a ringer on guitar who sat on the couch and played barefoot.
It’s all Kiss because Shannon wants to be Peter Criss (look at him without makeup, freaky!), which is hard on the voice, Julie says, because their songs are all written in boy keys. They opened with “I Love It Loud” and nailed “Rock and Roll All Nite” to close. Babies, grandmothers, sisters and brothers — everyone there, all walks of town. The first band scared G., so we moved to the back. Then when the Kissettes started I almost cried because I’m a wuss, and because of what I said before — art pour l’art. Also because in the middle of the room, my 7-year-old son and Julie’s 5-year-old son stood politely, hands folded in front of them, and watched her create something for everyone there … just for the sake of it. Sunday she was back in jeans and sweatshirt handing out cupcakes for her 5-year-old’s birthday party at Sunset Park.
You drive us wild, we’ll drive you crazy …