First band I ever saw live, I was seventeen, the band was Aerosmith. Tyler a Demented Juicy Monkey Sex God,in striped spandex bell-bottoms. Joe Perry all blistering heat in intimate rock-n-roll incest next to him. Didn't know if Perry wanted to fuck him, or kill him, while visions of hash oil danced in my head. I loved him. Did he know it? Didn't matter, I'd wait. Those were the days.
When the shit hit the fan, I was writing a column, "All About Eve", for Whipt! Detroit's alternative entertainment magazine. Whipt! was a lot more than some boring entertainment mag,though. It was a jittery explosion of art, parties, bands and politics chaotically crammed between a folded full-color cover. It was published in Detroit, in a grimy hundred-year-old building with marble floors and gilt-trimmed ceilings.
When all hell broke loose I was 38 and still writing for Whipt! They sent me to Joe Louis Arena to interview Steven Tyler. All things come to those who wait. I dropped a couple tabs of acid to take the edge off and put on my Vampirella dress. They told me I could have fifteen minutes before he went on. I went in. He was sixty years old and looked more like ninety. I had to wait to start the interview till he put his teeth in. He asked me if I had any Viagra. Christ. I walked out. Screw that. Anyway, the Stones are in town next month.
Opening: Debhoag.....Continuation: Evil Editor