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I’ve come to think of this post as one where you come for the music and stay for the conversation—so feel free to drop a note. The diarist gets to sleep in if she so desires and can show up long after the post is published. So you know, it's a feature, not a bug.
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This story about a great Minnesota band starts in Oregon.
One weekend I volunteered to help pour wine at a Blues and Wine festival in Veneta, Oregon. Oh darn, that sounds terrible! A guy walked up to get some wine, who after taking one look at, I could tell we would be best friends. I was right. We had the same first name, we were born several days apart, both complete deadheads and outdoors maniacs. At the end of that summer he went back to school at the University of Minnesota and I went bouncing around from Eugene to Portland down to Tucson for the winter.
One January I got a call from my mom. She wanted to know if I wanted to come up to Minnesota and live with her for awhile so I could help her move from an apartment to a townhouse she was buying. Doing all the remodel stuff she would demand to do was an unspoken condition of this.
Why would I want to do that? Here I am in Tucson, wearing Birkenstocks in January. I don’t think I have enough thermal underwear to survive the rest of winter in the frozen north. Besides, I had watched Fargo when it came out? Why would I want to surround myself with people that sound like that? My mom assured me that people don’t speak like that. Ok. That and many more convincing arguments and cajoling and I was on my way from t-shirt weather to tundra.
The day before I made it across state lines, it took me an entire flipping day to get from Newton, Kansas to Des Moines, Iowa. I woke up to 2 inches of ice over everything to sub-zero temps as I fought my way through Kansas City. As I had plenty of time to contemplate the error of my ways, doing 20 MPH on I 35, I remembered my friend was going to school in St. Paul. Awesome. I had a friend before I even got into town!
I got into the twin cities and stopped at a gas station to call ma and get directions to her work. The lady at the counter that gave me change for the phone sounded just like an extra from Fargo. I knew my mom was lying to me.
That night (and it shocked me to know it was only 4:30) I called my buddy to tell him I was in town. He answered and was excited too. He said that night I had to come out with him as there was this great band playing that night. Hell, I need an excuse to forget that I had just pulled the most ill conceived migration in the history of nomads. And that was my first Big Wu show.
I was semi working for the band by the time the above song was played for the first time. Up to that point they were considered a Dead cover band. Not bad, but not gonna get anywhere either. I and those that cared kept talking to them about how fun their original stuff was. Week by week the flavor of their shows changed to reflect more of their talent, not Jerry’s.
That summer the manager of the band threw a party on this little island that housed a geodesic dome cabin on a lake in western Wisconsin. The band and close friends came out for some well supervised insanity. Literally. That was the last time I did LSD. I had never been launched so far into the universe. It took me 14 hours to remember I was a member of the human race back on planet earth. I’ve never needed a psychedelic experience after that night. The next night the Wu played in the battle of the bands. The winner got to join the H.O.R.D.E tour. I could barely remember my name. How in the world was the band going to win? Maybe it was because of that night on the island, maybe it was that the rest of us were slavering wild things, dancing and yelling our fool heads off. But they won.
My relationship with the band went on for four years. It was really fun to watch these friends play their butts off to create a wave that they would ride far and wide. They’re still around, but it looks like they are keeping it close to home. If I could ask them now, I bet they’d say the road was too much to put up with for long. That takes a special breed of musician to put up with the silliness for long. These guys all had families they were just starting, so they probably just decided to be a Big Wu in a small pond.
I worked for another band (in another story to come) by the time New Year’s Eve 2000 came around. All the bands that were in our circle played a big show at one of Prince’s clubs downtown, the Quest. No one cared the world might end and an ATM machine would chew our arms off. We were together, a family. The extra comfort came in the shoe box sized cola one of the Wu members had. I have still never seen a bud bigger than that thing.
In a lot of ways, these guys represented the best of my young and dumb phase. Multiple concerts a week, dancing the night away knowing I was in my 20s, happy and in a special place and time. There’re a few things I regret from those days, but hanging out with the Big Wu is not one of them.
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Grab your coffee or tea and join us, please.
What's on your mind this morning?