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Sometime between 1985 and 1987 we did a gig opening for the
Dead Milkmen at Peabodys.
The Dead Milkmen were pretty cool (the singer was weird, big
surprise). The show went well, and it was packed. John had his
huge rack of broken cymbals, trash can lids and car parts. He
got so excited that he threw his whole drum set into the sea
of people, then followed it by jumping into the crowd himself.
People were trying to steal the drum set and the security guards
had to help us get the stuff back. John got back onto the stage,
pointed his finger and yelled into the microphone, "that guy
is trying to steal my snare drum, kick his ass."
We actually got everything back. We finished up the show (that
cost about $7.00 to get into, and was sold out), then got our
$50.00. (I am not going to name any names, everyone knows who
was booking Peabody's back then, oh but we are very grateful
for the show. Thank you very much, sir), then Dale and I headed
out towards our truck, which was parked down the street a short
ways. Dale and I got freaked out, because these two beautiful
teenage girls came up, and started to talk to us. They told
us that they loved the show and wanted to know what town we
were from, and what town we were playing next. We told them
that we were from Cleveland, and they could not believe it.
They said they thought we were an out of town band, and asked
for our autographs. In the time we have been together (now 17
years), those were the only two people to ever have asked for
our autographs (wouldn't it be wild, if they still had them).
I got one of the girls' phone number and went out with her,
once. It was very odd (I am not 39, and still single,
because of my ability to function so well with the opposite
sex).
For one night at Peabodys, Numbskull really were rock stars!!
(Darryl Lawrence Whalen - Numbskull) |
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NUMBSKULL's
first release (as far as i know) was a cassette-only release
called "Final Days Of Torture". The title song opens
with the faint sound of a haunting music box & an old-fashioned
phone dialing just prior to the ugly, distorted musical intro.
The
story goes a little like this: the singer's house doubled
as a practice place for the band. One of his neighbors was
a codger, bed-ridden with some terminal illness. This unfortunate
old fart was constantly plagued by the band's rehearsals since,
like many of their heroes, they made it a point to play excruciatingly
loud.
Eventually,
the guy's wife called the offending parties on the phone to
explain her husband's condition & plead with them to cease
the loud racket. This explains the phone.
A
short time later he died, having endured for free what most
people pay money to hear when they attend one of NUMBSKULL's
gigs. I can only assume that the music box represents the
sort of soothing sound one would prefer over NUMBSKULL when
faced with the aspect of impending death. Thus the song's
closing sentiment:
"Six
days later, he was dead".
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