Discover more from the disturbed universe
hurry up and get in!!!!
my dad's here and HE DOES NOT LIKE TO WAIT
"generation of feeling" by Marwa Helal these growing pains though this good will hunting we fallen twigs look like bones waiting to be lit i am trying to tell you something about how rearranging words rearranges the universe
s.u.a.d. with me
alternatively titled “white man in the hammersmith palais”
Everyone, welcome my dad to the chat!! Me pops is a new subscriber.
My ol’ man was the president of the SUNY Binghamton chapter of a club called Shut Up and Dance (SUAD). And yes, while some - nay, he himself - recall the club was mostly an excuse to get drunk and listen to great music on the school’s dime, and while, yes, when my dad first pitched a playlist to guest-DJ one night, the then-president was indeed so In The Drink at the Campus Pub that the words may have well been typed in Wingdings – the SUAD chapter of my dad’s lore has always deeply fascinated and intrigued me.
A photo of the Campus Pub in 1971 // Credit: Mark McCague via Facebook
When he first heard the sound of B-52’s, brought into his Long Island home by his older brother, I think he probably knew then – realized in that moment that suddenly the world had opened up like a flower before him. A new universe of sounds, a different world built for being different. Enough with disco, drama and production, the exclusivity and conformity of popular music, and off into the stratosphere.
My dad fondly remembers seeing The Clash in a small room, the West Gym in Vestal, just bodies’ lengths away from Joe Strummer.
Poster for the 1982 show my dad saw. // Credit: David Wallick via Facebook
And an interjection to remember that my dad says he was “deaf as a rock” after this show.
Live recording of the show in question.
It was one of their stops on the Combat Rock tour. Can you imagine hearing this setlist live?
@ the 10/2/82 show // Credit: Matt Mendelsohn via Facebook
Many fans of classic rock deeply envy those that experienced the late seventies and early eighties amid the changing landscape of punk. People say they were born in the wrong decade, but not me. I’m content watching the rawly recorded, sonically semi-stable YouTube videos of concerts, and knowing that my dad is out in the crowd somewhere, getting down. That’s all I need.
The man himself. And my mom.
just finished: Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver (2/5 Barbara I’m sorrryyy!!!!!!)
currently reading: Because I Loved You by Donnaldson Brown, mother of my pal Lyle
the disturbed universe is a reader-supported publication. to receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.