I’m sitting in the van looking at Washington’s landscape and a ton of memories are flooding my thoughts.My band played for 2 or 3 thousand people less than 24 hours ago. The band is in good spirits, joking and replaying the shows highlights and follies verbally or in thought, as I’m sure we will until the next show. It had a deeper meaning than i let on to the guys, as this city and i go way back…….way back to the 90’s.

(enter twilight zone music here)

There i was a misdirected pimply teenager, in a a tiny northern Californian town. I had been kicked out of my second high school and i was officially a dropout. It was an especially odd situation to have an entire high school social life slam into a brick wall. I was now a sketchy character in the eyes of my town of 6000 people. I would not be attending the prom or graduation like my friends and took to hanging with all the rejects i met in continuation school. They all had similar stories, just young angry and lost kids stumbling through some rough years. Some were pregnant, some had tattoos already, and all of us smoked cigarettes.

Graduation came and went… i won’t lie, it sucked, and as an adult i now realize that i never fit in there in the first place, the high school, the sports, the whole town for that matter. I had been just getting by on pretty weak grades for years , mostly drawing cartoons in classes with my friend Colin Maguinnes. I had privately been playing guitar at home for a couple of years and had figured out that if i took choir class i could avoid failing Spanish class and it was a class of all girls… why not.

In short, all the makings of a deep connection to art and music was forming and i did not even realize it… it was soon to become the best thing to ever happen to me in my life, and there i sat scared shitless, with a pack of cheap cigarettes that a Mexican gangster chick gave me , just drowning in my town when the phone rang. It was Colin Maguinnes

So much was about to happen. He had jumped the fence and gone AWOL from Marine boot camp in San Diego and was heading up to Seattle to collect $1000 bucks from some jar head he lent it to.

“Seattle?”
“Yeah man, Seattle..”
“How far is that?”
“3 days drive.”
“Lets go man”

I had never independently left the state before and i jumped in the air! Little did i know i’d be a homeless teen in a matter of weeks.

God it seems so like so long ago, cause it was i guess, and i just remember staring out that window of the Amtrak watching the terrain turn into pines and fog and a grey, grey sky.

We arrived in Seattle talking about the music scene and Kurt Cobain and how we were going to buy beer and meet girls… Colin even had a friend we could crash with! Perfect… even though he shuddered at the consequences of being AWOL from the United States Marine Corps, adventure was ours for the taking and he departed to collect that money he had loaned the guy in boot camp. I hung out on Capital hill blown away at the city culture with bums, runaways, cross dressers and businessmen.

Colin and i were supposed to meet up and i did what i could in the pre-cell phone days to connect with him…..but he never came. It then dawned on me it was getting dark, it was 40 degrees and i was in a world of hurt.

I wandered around the U-district, took some buses and ended up stashing my backpack in a overhead ventilation shaft in a parking garage and hung out in a McDonald’s for hours. Since i had no job, Colin had offered to pay for my ticket home, and i couldn’t call his family to find out where he was because they weren’t aware he went AWOL, so i sat there and stared at my shoes…. The reality of my situation shook me.

I woke up on a couch next to a bunch of band equipment. Guitar cases, drums all in the corner of a crash pad. A much older musician had felt sorry for me at McDonald’s and let me crash in his stinky living room. There were pictures of David Bowie and Captain Beefheart on the walls. My mind was spinning. Who the hell was Captain Beefheart? How could this be? No college, no future “plan”, no small town bullshit. Just long haired dudes coming and going in this bizarre bands house. They were like no one i’d ever met and i was deeply curious.

This arrangement was short lived however, and it wasn’t going to last. I headed back to the Amtrak station and got in the “Pacific Starlight” route line, fixed my hair and clothes and walked onto the train. My plan was to just hide when the conductor came, and i did just that. The train started to move and i got butterflies. And sure enough, the conductor came. I ducked into the bathroom as he took the tickets, tore them and placed them above the passengers. I worked my way down the train to the luggage car and when i couldn’t escape i grabbed some suit cases and while crouching down built a sort of suitcase fort. I was trembling and holding my breath when i heard the conductors keys jingling coming my way. I stayed still eventually falling asleep and waking up in Oregon. I later swiped a ticket stub while a passenger slept, put it in the slot above an empty seat and sat down smiling. I had successfully hopped a train home to California. I wouldn’t talk to Colin for over 10 years after that experience. I saw him for the first time in last week at a Pela show in SF…. we just laughed.

I never forgot those free spirited musicians i stayed with and immediately dedicated myself to playing my guitar and writing songs. I never forgot Seattle… i consider it the turning point where i was allowed the chance to see life in a different way. Just 17 years old and consumed in thought. Everything was so different… i was miles away from my small town even though i returned to live there.

Thank you Seattle.

Fast forward into my early twenties…
After a few failed bands in SF, i decided to move to Seattle. It was a different place at that time… maybe i was older, but the culture seemed to have changed. The whole indie rock thing was in full swing. There was a lot of people moving up from California. Modest Mouse had just been signed to a major label and it was not underground at all. I crossed paths with a lot of friends from Cali and like myself they were feeling a lot of disdain and backlash from locals who felt invaded. And rightfully so, they were. Bands like my roommate Travis’s band Juno and Murder City Devils were huge. This dude Derek who would eventually be in Pretty Girls Make Graves (awesome by the way) lived in my building. I was always shy and never introduced myself, but always saw him loading gear into his van with his band mates…. i wished i had a band so bad. I got one together and i can say honestly while we tried and tried, it just wasn’t going to happen. We practiced all the time… i was always 100% focused but was undermined by band mates with drinking problems, crappy gear, and half hearted attempts from what seemed like a never ending drummer curse. I was taking care of a disabled guy for work and sitting in his wheelchair he’d say “when is your band playing?” In fact every friend i had was like “when are you playing a show dude?”

I was also worked at a bar that had a gay tranny night on Sundays, and the trannys were even asking me “When’s the show honey?” What could i tell them… that my keyboard player didn’t show to practice again, or the bass player quit, or the drummer was getting deported or blah blah blah blah.I was trying to just play my songs in a band… Shit, any songs. When my best friend quit, i just sat in my car with my forehead on the steering wheel and cried. At how far i had come and how far the road would be to even playing a show.

It was a painful time but also a great city to live in, i would wake up listen to KEXP, go to shows and even if i couldn’t play music in Seattle i could still feel it around me.

Fast forward to 2007.

I’m raising my arms and the biggest crowd i have ever played for is cheering and screaming. A giant beach ball is bouncing throughout the huge crowd. I am singing my heart out to an outdoor panoramic of heads.I look to my right and the DJ, John in the morning from KEXP is crowd surfing…

photo by chona kasinger

Kids, old people, teenagers, families dancing… just so surreal. I saw a little kid in a PELA shirt! I even met Derek from Pretty Girls Make Graves backstage. I told him i was so afraid to introduce myself way back when. We had a laugh. I saw so many Seattle musicians i admired. And i couldn’t be more proud of my band. We came to represent NYC, my new home and we played our asses off.

photo by chona kasinger

I am still gazing out the window in thought and i can’t help but to write you our fans and tell you how sincere and warm the reception in Seattle was for Pela.I imagined a day like that for so long and in the hardest of times never imagined it being so perfect.Just had some time in the van and wanted to say thank you so much. Till next time Seattle… Nice to see your face again.

B.McCarthy

B&W photos by Ron Henry Photography

Trackback this Post | Feed on comments to this Post