Nantucket, MA – “Glitter-Covered, Bare-Ass, Bass Solo” – The Muse – September 1, 1999

The first time I played the Muse was back in 1996. It was with my old band “The Boogies.” I was 21. Not a whole lot has changed since then. The wolf still dances with the blond at the entrance to the backstage. Sand still sticks to the corners of rooms like food collected on a child’s smile. Bubbles still drift down in a soapy waterfall to the dance floor where they meet a delicate demise. People still shoot pool and smoke cigarettes all day in their bare feet and the same old salty dog still heckles the bands.

After soundcheck, I showed the guys around the band house which looked much the same too, only neater, with a new rug and a new lamp. There were new band stickers on the fridge and a new coat of paint. But the bunks were still there—8 beds to a room and I pointed out where it still read “SAL’S BED” in large sharpie letters down one of the 2X4 wooden bed frames. I’d written it one night to mark my claim on a matrice after hosting a huge post-show party and discovering a couple getting some horizontal exercise in my bunk.

I was recounting some hilarious stories from my days with “The Boogies,”—The time we played for the President, our cross-dress show, the naked show, and the time Adam took a glitter-covered bare-ass bass solo. “It was in this very room,” I recounted “I lubed Adam’s butt with vaseline and covered it with gold–” when who should appear at the door but Adam trailing a bunch of Boogies and a gaggle of friends from the Vineyard. I pounced on them like Tigger, taking them down like pins at a bowling alley.

My past met my present in one great moment of hilarity. More ridiculous ol’ time Boogies tales were told—ones I’d forgotten about like the time someone lost a bet and had to wear a tick on their lip for a day or the gig the stage got so flooded with beer we fell like dominos when “Tots,” our guitarist, slipped and took us all out. Kenny, Brian and both Chrises confirmed our gigs these days were much more boring and I smiled with the relief that comes from no longer living in fear of landing in jail after a show.

Dougie Fresh, and Jesse Dutra (Nantucket pals) arrived and took us all out to dinner in Kathy Lee Gifford’s club wag and after, I gave everyone a tour of Moby as though it were my home…. “Here’s our kitchen,” I said pointing at the cooler, “in the back bench is the bedroom, where we sleep. The living area is this front row and the way back is the garage

The show was fun and familiar. A young blond dancer asked if she could wear my red feathered boa and then disappeared with it into the night never to be seen again and a rusty bearded man asked me for my autograph after the show, then traded it to the bartender for a beer.