Review

Hello people. I've been hanging out in the n-g for a while, mostly just watching. Chicago's Metro, July 25, 1998. With a bit of research, I found this was the 21st time I've seen the Jesus Lizard, starting back in December,1990. Four states, ten different venues. In my twenties, in my thirties. As I've told anyone who would listen, this is MY Led Zeppelin. Like the majority of these shows, I took pictures (I was the skinny guy between the stage and the barricade throughout, for anyone who may have been there). It was also my wife's first Jesus Lizard adventure.

Actually, the show was nicely reviewed by "dfgarcia", but I though I'd throw in my three cents worth. Stopped by the nearby Wrigleyville Tap for a drink before the show. For a brief moment in bar's very small washroom, Yow was pissing and I was crapping (no, not in the same receptacle). I don't really know what this means about the alignment of the cosmos, but I was amused nonetheless.

On to the Metro. Saw a few minutes of The Superjesus, who were relatively well-received. This may have had something to do with the cute female singer/guitar player and her accompanying Brit accent. They started a bit late, so finished a bit late (duh). Also, it appeared that much of the crowd had begun to drink MUCH earlier in the evening: if the Metro was a car and the crowd was a driver, the Metro would have been pulled over for running over a mail box, and issued a DUI on the spot.

I positioned myself stage-right and handed out a few Snickers bars to some of the security guys (a "thank you" in advance for tolerating me in no-man's-land; a move that seems to be greatly appreciated). The show started at 12:45am, at which point I again refer to "dfgarcia"'s spirited review.

There was something oddly liberating and transcendent about this show; something not easily explained. Normally, I'm initially blown away by the musical precision of it all. Not that that wasn't the case, but this time Yow seemed to take all the crowd energy and raise the show to a new plane. He also seemed drunker than usual, which may have had a great deal to do with it. Speaking of the crowd, there were some people who were just going absolutely apeshit. Screaming and shaking their friends when a song they especially liked began. Yelling for the same song, over and over, to the point where the act of yelling began to take on an intrinsic value all its own. This was a pleasant distraction: a woman a few feet from me obviously felt rather liberated herself. She was topless throughout much of the show, and was trying to get her other gal friends to do the same. She dancing and hollering and didn't seem to have a care in the world. I love America. The security guys wanted me to get some pictures of her. Unfortunately, ethical considerations kept me from doing so. Now, if I had just drank a little more . . .

The songs were a blur, really. And the set was short: 75 minutes, including three encores. Only "Fly On The Wall" from "Down" and nothing from "Head." I would have given my wooden leg to hear "One Evening." The solo at the end of "Cold Water" was other-worldly. All the new stuff was tight as a bear's ass. For one of the security guys at the front (the purple dread-guy), it was his first night on the job. Yow either knew or just sensed this, as he picked on the guy mercilessly (hitting him on the head with the mic, doing pushups off his shoulders).

I hope my shots turned out. I tried out some new film: Ilford HP5 Plus. Some other guy was there taking shots for a skateboard mag ("Big Brother",or something like that) as part of an article. He said he'd done an interview with Duane over the phone.

"DrgnldyRcd" was watching from the balcony. Larry from Pegboy was there, as was heavy-on-the-attitude filmmaker Jim Sikora. Boche, of course, was there in addition to the omnipresent Bernie (yes, I assume, the Bernie mentioned in the talking part of "Inflicted By Hounds") on the side of the stage. It was rumored that Chad Smith from the Red Hot Chili Peppers was there, though I didn't see him.

There are few things more gratifying than being in a room with a thousand smelly people, many of whom are likely just as passionate about the music you're witnessing. You survey the room and think, "These are my friends." My previously un-Lizarded wife had an excellent time, which was rather important to me. (She finally knows/understands what I'm so nuts about.) The show was very positively reviewed by both the Chicago Tribune and the Sun-Times. Greg Kot from the Tribune has always had a Lizard-woody, which certainly is a good thing (he also loves the Pumpkins, but no one's perfect).

A friend and I were saying that we could see the Lizard every day and never get sick of it. Now, I'm thinking about trying to see them in Europe. What the hell, it's only money.